


Riptide

by Gort



Series: Riptide [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bank heists, F/M, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Learning to Surf, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of illegal drugs, Minor Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, No one jumps out of a plane, Point Break homage, Strangers to Lovers, Surfing, Undercover FBI investigation, Ward Gets Punched
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 17:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: Point Break inspired AU. Rookie FBI Agent Bobbi Morse is determined to prove she’s good for more than just sitting behind a desk and Coulson needs her help to solve their most pressing case—a string of Los Angeles bank hacks. Now she’s running a one-woman undercover operation to investigate their prime suspect and bring him to justice. All she has to do is learn to surf. Oh, and survive being in the proximity of one Lance Hunter without completely losing sight of her objective. Piece of cake, right?Beta'd by the amazing Sunalso!





	1. Walk on the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a Point Break AU, but aside from surfing, the undercover FBI thing, and some bank heists, it bears little resemblance to the original. (Let's not even talk about the remake.) Sorry, Keanu!

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Coulson asked.

The car was hot and stuffy and smelled like fast-food wrappers and spilled coffee. Bobbi stared out the bug-flecked windshield at the gentle swells of the Pacific Ocean. The beach was nearly deserted this early in the morning, other than a few dog-walkers, but there were already people in the water. Distant heads bobbed in and out of sight, waiting for, she supposed, the perfect wave.

“I’m sure,” Bobbi said.

“This is a tricky assignment, Bobbi. The boss is breathing down my neck to find something on these guys or move on, but I’ve got a good feeling we’re on the right track.”

Bobbi almost smiled. Coulson always had a feeling. He reminded her of a detective from a Raymond Chandler novel, all hard edges and hunches with a gooey emotional center. The local division chief had been pushing Coulson to retire for almost a year now, slowly reassigning his cases and leaving him with the dregs no one wanted to touch. Obviously, the higher-ups in the FBI had no appreciation for the classics. 

“I know,” she said quietly.

It was also the only assignment she’d been offered that got her out of the office. She’d been asking to do more field work since the day she’d started, but they’d stuck her in financial crimes and rebuffed all her requests for a transfer, saying she needed more experience. How she was supposed to get any damn experience when she was stuck sorting through enormous stacks of bank statements and tax filings searching for inconsistencies was a mystery.

Thank god the Supervising Special Agent had decided the most recent string of unauthorized bank transactions was something her department could handle. Though she suspected he’d passed it off because they expected it to lead to nothing but dead ends. They certainly didn’t agree with Coulson that it was connected to a recent uptick in drug trafficking.

“I guess there are worse things than having to hang out at the beach all day.” Coulson shot her a rueful smile. “But I’m glad I’m not the one who has to learn to surf.”

This time Bobbi did smile. “Hey, beats being stuck at the office.”

Coulson reached over and patted her knee. “You’ll do great. Get in touch when you can, and be safe, alright?”

“I always am,” Bobbi responded. She climbed out of the car and went around to the back, opening the trunk to retrieve her duffle bag and slamming it shut before walking away. She heard the car start, its engine whining, but she didn’t look back.

From this point forward, she wasn’t Agent Barbara Morse. She was just another girl who’d hitched a ride to Los Angeles to start a new life and found it was harder than she expected. She was wearing the only pair of jeans she had, though the holes in them meant they were probably going to end up a pair of shorts before long. The rest of her clothes, plus a little cash, a wetsuit, a book about finding yourself in the waves, and a worn folder of headshots that spoke of her discouraging attempt to break into acting, filled the bag to near capacity. In a hidden pocket along one of the inside seams she’d tucked away her little .380, a pair of handcuffs, and her badge, just in case.

Bobbi walked along the boardwalk, pausing to watch the sun finally crest over the hills and touch the water, shifting the color from pale grey to a deep blue. There were more surfers crossing the beach and heading out to sea, diving through the surf with their boards until they got out deep enough to paddle.

Checking the time on her phone, Bobbi picked up her pace. She was supposed to meet her instructor soon and while she’d thought surfers were supposed to be all Zen, Ward had been very clear on the phone that his time was money and she’d better not waste it.

The parking lot in front of the beach she was meeting him at was already half full, and the sound of the crashing waves was louder than the spot where Coulson had dropped her off. Bobbi’s stomach was a little tight, but it was too late now for an attack of nerves.  She didn’t want to let Coulson down, and, more importantly, she really didn’t want to end up parked at a desk again.

An enormous red truck pulled into the parking lot just as she walked up, and Bobbi stopped, watching it park while she took several deep, calming breaths. It didn’t matter if this guy bought her story, because he wasn’t her mark, he was just the way in. She did appreciate having a chance to test it out, though.

A guy with dark hair jumped down from the driver’s side door, waving at a couple of the surfers walking past. He went around to the truck bed and Bobbi headed in his direction as a woman emerged from the passenger side wearing a bikini top with a pair of cutoffs. She took off a pair of expensive sunglasses and frowned at Bobbi.

“Um, hey,” Bobbi said, stopping beside the truck. She recognized Ward’s girlfriend Kara from the files Coulson had given her. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Bobbi. I’m here for the lesson?”

Kara lifted her eyebrows and ignored Bobbi’s hand. “Ward,” she snapped.

“Yeah?” Ward was examining the edge of a surfboard he’d pulled out of the truck. He had his wetsuit halfway on and his torso was a suspiciously even bronze color. Still, it wasn’t bad to look at.

“You said you were giving a lesson to ‘some guy’ this morning,” Kara said, crossing her arms. Bobbi bit her lip and hoped this plan wasn’t about to go to hell because of a jealous girlfriend.

Ward finally looked up, his expression annoyed, though it instantly smoothed out when he caught sight of Bobbi. “Oh, you’re Bobbi?” he asked, his tone oozing innocence. He grinned, revealing perfect white teeth. “Man, that must happen to you all the time, huh?”

Bobbi almost said something about their phone call, but Kara had relaxed and the last thing Bobbi needed was to start a fight with the girlfriend of the guy who was supposed to be her ticket into this whole surfing scene. “Yeah, all the time,” she replied, shrugging and giving Kara a sheepish smile.

Kara narrowed her eyes, walking over to Ward and giving him a long, lingering kiss. “See you later, babe,” she said, casting one last look in Bobbi’s direction before heading toward the beach. 

“You got a wetsuit?” Ward asked, pulling a second board out of the truck bed. Bobbi nodded, clutching her duffle tightly with both hands. Ward paused, taking her in. His eyes traveled from her head to her toes, lingering just long enough to make her uneasy, but not so long she could call him on it. There hadn’t been anything suspicious in this guy’s files, but if she’d met him in a bar he definitely wouldn’t be getting her number. “You can leave your stuff in the truck.”

Bobbi frowned down at her duffle. “Oh, um…”

“We all look after each other around here. It won’t go missing. I promise.” Bobbi set her bag down just long enough to grab her wetsuit out of it, and then tossed it in the back of Ward’s truck. Ward nodded at one of the surfboards. “Grab that, and let’s get started.”

***

Bobbi squinted into the sunlight coming over the hills, her body tense. At Ward’s barked command she shifted, pushing up and getting her feet under her as quickly as possible before standing, knees bent and eyes on the horizon. Sweat trickled down her back. The jeans were long gone, replaced by her wetsuit, but she’d left the top hanging around her waist and had kept her t-shirt on. The bikini she was saving for someone else, and she hadn’t seen him yet.

“Better,” Ward said, frowning. He came closer and settled a hand on her hip, adjusting her stance. Bobbi had to stop herself from swatting his hand away. “There. Try it again.”

A sigh escaped as Bobbi went back to lying prone on the board. So far, this was a lot more work and a lot less fun than she’d been hoping.

An old blue van with faded paint pulled into the parking lot as Bobbi jumped to her feet again, trying to land in precisely the right position. “Not bad,” Ward said. “Do that a couple more times and we’ll hit the water.” Her heart rate sped up as a familiar face emerged from the van. He was here.

Bobbi listened to Ward with half an ear as she went through the motions a couple more times, but her eyes were trained on the new arrival. He took his time pulling on his wetsuit before dragging a surfboard out of the van and jogging toward the beach. He lifted his hand as a couple of other surfers called a greeting.

Showtime. 

“Good?” Bobbi asked, popping to her feet and replicating the stance Ward had shown her.

“Yeah, good. You ready?”

“I think so.”

Coulson had promised her this was the best way in. Surfers were a notoriously insular group and her mark generally kept to himself. Bobbi couldn’t just walk right up to him without looking suspicious. Luckily, while he didn’t seem to have many friends, he definitely had at least one rival: her current surf instructor. There’d been multiple police reports with both of their names attached, though nothing had landed them in jail. Clearly, they were territorial. Shaking her hair back out of her face, Bobbi pulled off her t-shirt and gave Ward a bright smile.

The man she’d been watching slowed down, and Bobbi bit her lip, trying not to look directly at him as she grabbed her wetsuit, pulling it on the rest of the way. “Problem, Hunter?” Ward asked.

Bobbi lifted her eyes in time to catch Hunter staring at her chest, standing just a few feet away. Perfect. Now she just had to…

“No,” Hunter said. “But I thought I’d make sure she didn’t have one, either.”

Bobbi frowned, confused by the direction this conversation was taking. Hunter was watching them with a faint crease between his brows. His hair looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and his chin was covered in scruff and somehow, he was even cuter in person than he was in the photographs she’d studied. Maybe it was the accent. He met her eyes and her belly did a little flip even as she fought to keep her expression neutral. 

“Fuck off, she’s here for a lesson,” Ward said tightly.

Hunter tilted his head to one side and took a step closer to Bobbi, ignoring Ward. “Yeah? How’s it going?” he asked.

Bobbi blinked at him and tried to find her voice. Shit, this assignment wasn’t going anywhere if she got tongue-tied. Hunter was watching her with genuine concern, his board tucked under his arm and his hand on his hip. “Fine?” she said cautiously.

Hunter nodded. “Alright then. Let me know if that changes.”

“Stop trying to poach my fucking clients, Hunter,” Ward snarled.

Hunter rolled his eyes and Bobbi had to press her lips together to keep from smiling as he gave Ward a two-finger salute, tossed Bobbi a wink, and headed for the ocean. Ward was grumbling under his breath as he zipped up his suit and picked up his board.

“Who was that?” Bobbi asked innocently.

“Just some has-been,” Ward said, waving a hand dismissively. “He was on the circuit for a while, kind of a novelty, you know—Lance Hunter, the British surfer. Couldn’t keep up with the rest of us, though.” Ward said, smirking. “Come on, let’s see how you do in the water.”

***

Bobbi staggered out of the ocean, her legs trembling and her arms sore. She’d thought she kept herself in pretty good shape, but this was a whole new level of intensity. Ward walked alongside her, a board tucked under each arm. “You did pretty good,” he said.

Bobbi looked at him incredulously. “I managed to stand up exactly once without faceplanting, and I think I’ve inhaled half the ocean.”

Ward laughed. “Hey, once is more than none. Maybe tomorrow you’ll manage twice.”

Bobbi groaned and unzipped her wetsuit, shivering in the breeze. “Oh god, tomorrow?” She was cold and wet and exhausted, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten much at breakfast, either. She trailed after Ward across the beach, gratefully peeling her wetsuit off her arms.

He pulled her bag out before loading the boards back in the truck, and Bobbi rummaged through it for a towel, wrapping it around her shoulders and wringing out her hair. Ward watched her, leaning against the tailgate. “So,” he said. “Why are you out here, really?”

Bobbi froze, one hand in her hair. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Ward said, reaching out to nudge her battered duffle bag with his foot. “It doesn’t look like you’ve got a lot of cash to spare, and I’m not cheap. What’s your deal?”

Forcing herself to keep scrubbing at her hair, Bobbi made an annoyed face. “I can get more cash.”

Ward smirked. “I’m sure you can. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Look,” Bobbi put one hand on her hip. “Do you have any idea how competitive this town is? I’ve been to a hundred auditions with the same two thousand other blondes and come up with exactly zip for work. They keep telling me I need a thing, something to set me apart, and I chose this, okay?”

“Surfing?” Ward sounded amused.

“Yeah,” Bobbi said, letting a little bit of steel slip into her voice. “And I heard you were the best, but if my money’s no good, I’ll just take it elsewhere.”

Ward held up his hands. “Hey, no need for that.” His eyes drifted down to her chest, and Bobbi suddenly remembered she’d left her shirt on the beach. Fuck. She only had five to begin with. “What are you doing tonight?”

Bobbi lifted one eyebrow. She’d be surprised at his audacity, but honestly, after the last couple of hours, she should have expected it. “Not sure,” she hedged.

“There’s a party, up near the cove.” He jerked his head in that direction. “Kara knows some people who’ve done time in the industry, maybe they could give you some pointers.”

Bobbi weighed her options. Odds were high that Hunter would be there too, even if it did mean more time with this asshole. She gave Ward a smile. “Sure, that’d be nice.”

“Great,” Ward said, slamming the tailgate of the truck shut. “I’ll pick you up at nine. Where are you staying?”

“Um, the Surfside?” Bobbi said, thankfully remembering the name of one of the motels she’d walked past this morning. She grabbed her bag and backed toward the beach. “Thanks for all this.” She whirled around before she had to pretend to enjoy Ward’s dubious level of charm any longer and headed in the direction of the surf. Her aching legs protested as she walked through the soft sand, and she was so busy concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other she almost missed the guy picking up her wayward shirt. “Hey!” she called, irritated.

He looked in her direction and Bobbi’s throat went dry. It was Hunter. His board was on the sand next to him and he’d peeled off the top half of his wetsuit. Water was beading on his pale skin and sliding down a lovely set of abdominal muscles that Bobbi wouldn’t mind mapping with her tongue if she was the sort of girl who got involved with suspects. Her gaze snapped back to his face as she fought a blush.

“That’s my shirt,” she said.

Hunter held it out to her wordlessly, and Bobbi stepped closer to take it from him, noting that his eyes were more amber than brown in the sunlight. Which was definitely not something she was going to put in her field report.

“Hey, uh, how’d the lesson go?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck and giving her a crooked smile that wasn’t recorded in any of the photos she’d seen in his file. It was disconcertingly sweet.

“Great,” Bobbi managed. She clutched her shirt to her chest. “Thanks.”

“Look,” Hunter said. “I know it’s not my business, but if Ward gives you any trouble, I’m…”

“You’re right,” Bobbi said, cutting him off as a familiar irritation rose. “It’s not any of your business. I can handle myself.” Straightening her spine, Bobbi looked him dead in the eye. She found most men didn’t like the reminder that, in heels, she would tower over them, but Hunter just gave her that smile again.

“Sure.” He picked up his board, tucking it under his arm. “But if you need anyone to help you keep track of your clothes, I’m available, love.”

Bobbi watched him jog away, speechless, and wondered just how many more surprises Lance Hunter had in store for her.


	2. Sure Shot

Bobbi swung her bag into the back of Ward’s truck and opened the passenger door, pausing as she realized Kara wasn’t with him.

“Hey,” Ward said, giving her a toothy smile. A cloud of cologne wafted in her direction and Bobbi wrinkled her nose.

“Hey,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat and automatically reaching for the seatbelt. “Where’s Kara?”

Ward shrugged. “She had a thing tonight.”

“Oh,” Bobbi said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Great, now she was stuck with this idiot all night. She’d really been hoping Kara would distract him while she tracked down Hunter.

Ward turned onto the main road and hit the gas, making the engine roar. Bobbi didn’t miss the glance in her direction. She just barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes, instead crossing her legs and smoothing down the skirt she’d worn. It was gaudy and bright and looked like someone had repurposed a fortune-teller’s tablecloth, but it made her legs look great and had the added advantage of being pretty damn memorable.

Ward reached out and put a hand on her knee. “So, Bobbi, where are you from?”

Bobbi stared out the windshield and reminded herself this assignment was worth it. If she caught the bad guys, then her superiors would have to admit she was field agent material. “Kind of all over,” she said.

 _Stick with the truth as much as you can_ , Coulson had told her. _It’s easier than remembering a lie_.

Ward snorted. “Army brat, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bobbi said, watching him out the corner of her eye.

“Well, you came to the right place.” He squeezed her knee. “We’re all from somewhere else around here.”

“You’re not from L.A.?” Bobbi asked. His file had said he was born and raised in Malibu, his parents catering to his every whim even after he’d dropped out of college and started following the surf circuit.

Shrugging, Ward turned onto a narrow road and headed west. “I grew up here, but now I just come for the surf, you know? Lot of great waves out there. We’re heading to Tahiti next month.”

“What about that other guy, from the beach?” Bobbi prodded.

“Hunter?” Ward frowned. “What about him?”

“You said he’s not on the circuit anymore. Does he live here?” The bank withdrawals had been done electronically from all over the world, but they all had one thing in common: the initial access had been through an L.A. bank.

Ward’s brow furrowed. “I mean, he’s not officially on the circuit. He’s usually around though.”

Bobbi frowned and looked out the passenger window at the palm trees whipping by, she shifted her legs and Ward’s hand, to her great relief, slid off her knee. “By himself?”

“Look,” Ward said, sounding annoyed. “Just a little friendly advice? Forget that guy, he’s a fucking nobody. He had his chance to make a name for himself, had the sponsors panting after him just begging for a deal, and he bailed. Couldn’t hack it.” Ward slung his arm along the back of her seat, his fingers catching in her hair. Bobbi clutched the fabric of her skirt to keep from smacking his hand away. “He definitely couldn’t handle you,” Ward said.

Thank god it was dark enough to hide her eyeroll. This was worse than the time she’d had to call the guy down in forgery to get a signature processed in time for a trial. At least that’d just resulted in a horrible coffee date she’d canceled at the last second.

They drove around a bend and the interior of the car lit up as a distant fire came into view. Bobbi relaxed a fraction, glad to see there were quite a few cars parked haphazardly along the roadside. Ward slowed down, cruising along the line of cars. There weren’t any battered blue vans among the vehicles, but Hunter seemed the type to enjoy making an entrance.

Ward parked the truck half on the sand, wedged between an old station wagon and a jeep. He turned off the engine, and in the sudden silence, Bobbi could hear faint laughter mixed with crashing waves. He leaned over and Bobbi stiffened, groping for the door handle, but Ward just pulled a bottle of something amber out from under her seat. “Shall we?” he asked.

“Sure,” Bobbi said, opening her door. Her smile was forced, but Ward wasn’t looking at her face. Hunter had better show up to this stupid bonfire because Bobbi definitely wasn’t going to be able to tolerate Ward’s company for much longer.

“Ward!” A guy was weaving haphazardly in their direction with a dazed smile on his face as they headed toward the bonfire. “Dude, what’s up? Did you hear about the run I had on Maui?”

“Keith,” Ward said, flashing a friendly smile. He passed the bottle of liquor to Bobbi. “I’ll catch up. Don’t have too much fun without me.” He shot her a wink that Bobbi really could have done without, but then, pretty much his whole pretty-boy surfer schtick left her as dry as the Sahara.

She dawdled for a second, fiddling with her sandals as she removed them to walk through the sand, but Keith’s ramblings, though theoretically in English, didn’t make any sense to her. He and Ward started walking back towards Ward’s truck and then they were out of earshot. Bobbi sighed in annoyance before heading toward the fire. She really needed to brush up on her surfer lingo. At least she’d have a couple minutes to get the lay of the land without Ward leering at her.

***

The breeze blowing in off the Pacific was surprisingly cool, and Bobbi was glad she’d remembered to bring a sweater. She left it unbuttoned though, because honestly, Ward staring at her tits was better than any of his attempted small talk. So far he’d asked her chest if it would like a beer, which she’d accepted; a shot, which she’d declined; and if it would like to go on a stroll down the beach, which she’d also turned down. Several couples had wandered off to take advantage of the nearly moonless night, but she was so not interested in that sort of thing with her present company.

Hunter hadn’t turned up in the crowd around the bonfire thus far, and Bobbi presumed that if he was among those using the dark to their advantage, she wouldn’t endear herself to him if she interrupted.

Bobbi shivered and then immediately regretted it as an arm draped over her shoulders. She shrugged, but Ward didn’t seem deterred. “Getting kinda cold out here. Want to sit in the truck for a bit?” He steered her in the direction of the road before she could answer, and Bobbi began to calculate just how long it was going to take her to walk back to civilization.

“Yeah, look,” she began as the voices from the people still around the fire faded into the distance.

“This hard to get thing usually work for you?” Ward said, sounding amused. Bobbi bristled and jerked away, only to have him grasp her upper arm and yank her back against him. “Hey, you owe me.”

Bobbi’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You think lessons with me are usually that cheap?”

Bobbi twisted her arm from his grasp and dropped her sandals, adjusting her stance. “Well, I’m sure as hell not that cheap, either.”

Ward lifted an eyebrow. “For someone who shows up dressed like that, you’re a lot of fucking work, you know that?” He reached for her again. Bobbi set her jaw, curling her hand into a fist, and a second later Ward staggered back, clutching his nose. “What the fuck!” He pulled his hand away from his face and Bobbi was pleased to see she’d made him bleed. “Are you psychotic?”

“Yep,” Bobbi said, marching over to the truck and snagging her bag out of the back. “So, don’t touch me again.”

Ward spit a glob of blood into the sand and glared at her. “Good luck getting anywhere in this town, bitch.”

“Thanks,” Bobbi replied cheerfully. “I think I’m really getting the hang of it.”

He climbed in his truck without a second glance and the engine roared to life. Bobbi squinted against the bright headlights and watched as he turned around and sped off down the road, her satisfaction fading quickly.

“Well,” someone said. Bobbi spun around and found Hunter lounging against a nearby car with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “And here I was thinking I was going to get to play the hero.”

“I told you I could handle myself,” Bobbi said, putting one hand on her hip.

He gave her that crooked grin that she really needed to stop thinking was cute and pushed himself upright. “Never doubted it,” he said. “Just really enjoy punching that guy myself.”

Bobbi fought a smile. “It was pretty satisfying.”

Hunter glanced towards the dwindling crowd on the beach, the light from the bonfire throwing his features into sharp relief. “Looks pretty dead out here. Can I drop you somewhere?” He stretched his arms out in front of him. “I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he added. “Rather fond of my face as it is.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Bobbi said, relieved.

Hunter jerked his head and dug a set of keys out of his pocket while Bobbi found her sandals, picking them up and hurrying after him. His jeans were riding low on his hips, but they were tight enough to show off a very nice butt, which was another thing Bobbi figured shouldn’t go in her report. At this rate, she wasn’t going to have a whole lot she could share with Coulson.

The blue van was parked down towards the end of a row of cars, and Hunter was standing by the passenger side with the door open. Bobbi halted a few feet away, feeling suddenly off-kilter, and he held out his hand. “Ok if I put your bag in the back?”

“Thanks.” She handed over the bag and Hunter slid open the back door a little, setting her bag inside.

He grinned. “Offered to keep track of your clothes, didn’t I?” Hunter slammed the door shut and brushed past her to round the van. A shiver ran up her spine and Bobbi sternly told herself to get a grip. She was investigating this guy, not fishing for a date.

She climbed in and shut the door as Hunter slid into the driver’s seat and started the van. She’d expected a wheeze, and possibly some backfiring, based on the van’s appearance, but the engine started up quietly and settled into a smooth idle. Bobbi glanced over at Hunter, surprised.

“Got a great mechanic,” he said, apparently reading her expression. He put the van into gear and slowly pulled onto the road. “Where to?”

Shit. She had no idea where she was, other than miles from the first place she’d been pretending to stay. “The nearest motel’s fine,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes on the palm trees lining the roadway.

The silence stretched out between them as Hunter drove up the winding road that led to the beach, and Bobbi tried to think of some innocuous questions. ‘ _Hey, do you have a job or just steal your money?_ ’ didn’t seem particularly stealthy. And she definitely wasn’t going to ask if he really was going to keep his hands to himself.

Mostly because she was wishing he wouldn’t.

They reached the main road, and the streetlights bathed the interior of the van with enough light that Bobbi could see Hunter relaxing back in his seat, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift. His fingers were tapping a quiet pattern, and he kept glancing in her direction.

“This might not be any of my business,” he finally said into the silence. “But the nearest motel’s a bit…well, they charge resort prices out here for a single without a view.”

Bobbi winced, trying to think of how much cash she had left. She could probably swing a day or two before she got desperate, especially now that Ward probably wasn’t interested in giving her any more surf lessons. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said easily. “I’m not saying you won’t, but I’ve been in your shoes a time or two and I know what it’s like. If you don’t mind some company, I’d be happy to put you up for the night. Got a few roommates, but they’re good people. They wouldn’t mind.” She saw a smile flit across his face. “And if I get out of hand, feel free to put me in my place.”

Bobbi wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or offended that it was this easy to finagle her way into Hunter’s good graces. She flexed her hand, feeling the faint ache from where her knuckles had connected with Ward’s nose. What she really needed was some ice and a decent night’s sleep, but she had a job to do, and this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” Bobbi asked, trying not to too eager.

From his file, Bobbi knew he lived with three other people—Leopold, Jemma, and another surfer named Daisy—but they didn’t seem to have much else in common. His roommates were all squeaky clean aside from Daisy’s juvenile record. It was an odd group, if they were the ones responsible for the bank transactions, but Coulson’s gut hadn’t been wrong very often.

“Swear to it. Especially after I regale them with the epic tale of your right hook and Ward’s face.”

“Not a very popular guy, I take it,” Bobbi said, feeling her cheeks flush.

“If I’d known what I was about to witness, I could have sold tickets,” Hunter said, laughing. He steered the car into a quiet residential neighborhood. The houses were small and older, but the front yards hosted a riot of colorful flowering bushes and the occasional lemon tree, giving it a homey, welcoming feel.

Hunter parked in front of a faded, green ranch-style house with a shed at the end of the driveway and several surfboards propped against the wall next to a sporty little moped under the carport. The grass was a little overgrown, but the path to the front door was lined with obviously well-cared for pots of flowers and herbs.

Bobbi pulled her bag out of the back of the van and stood on the sidewalk, feeling inexplicably nervous now that she was here. The windows on one side of the house were lit with a soft yellow glow, and the entire place was a far cry from how she imagined a bunch of bank robbers would live.

“Here we are,” Hunter said, unlocking the front door. “It’s not much, but I guarantee there’s cold beer.” He ushered her into the house and Bobbi set her bag in the foyer. She could see a kitchen through one doorway and a long hall, and ahead of her the flickering lights of a television set. 

“Hunter?” a guy called in an accented voice. “Would you come explain to these simpletons the joy that is the World Cup and get them to stop changing the damn channel?”

“Simpletons?” a girl exclaimed. That must be Jemma since Daisy was the lone American.

“Ooh, someone’s sleeping on the couch,” another person chimed in.

“Couch is spoken for,” Hunter called back. “Got a friend needs a place to crash.” He moved further into the house and Bobbi followed him, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. Three heads turned towards her from where they were seated on the couch. “Daisy,” Hunter said, pointing to a girl with short, dark hair. “Jemma, and Fitz,” he continued, indicating the two curled up together on one end of the couch. “This is Bobbi. Beer?” he asked her.

Bobbi nodded. At least it would give her something to do with her hands.

Fitz lifted his bottle and shook it. “Yes. And your team’s performance is disgraceful.”

Hunter rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen, leaving Bobbi standing alone with three sets of unfamiliar eyes on her. She took a deep breath and reminded herself this was no different than showing up at the FBI Academy and figuring out what the unspoken rules were on top of the ones in the handbook. “Um, hi,” she said, lifting a hand. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Of course,” Jemma said, giving her a bright smile. Daisy eyed her suspiciously, and Bobbi wondered for a second if Coulson had been mistaken about the relationship between her and Hunter. “Were you at the bonfire?” Jemma asked.

Hunter returned with a handful of beers in time to hear Jemma’s question. He let out a snort and passed the beers around, ruffling Daisy’s hair until she smacked his hand away. “She was,” he confirmed, plopping down on a loveseat and patting the seat beside him. Bobbi sat, watching his hands closely, but he twisted the top off a beer and handed it to her without preamble, followed by a sandwich bag filled with ice. Bobbi took it, startled, but Hunter just shrugged and gave her what was quickly becoming her favorite smile. “Popped Ward in the nose, too.”

Jemma gasped. “You did?” she asked, sounding delighted. “Oh, I’m sorry we missed that.”

Bobbi let out a startled laugh, relaxing, as Fitz turned the volume down on the television and gave her his full attention. Even Daisy was smiling now. “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Bobbi said, draping the ice over her knuckles and taking a sip of her beer.

“He was bleeding and everything,” Hunter said, sounding strangely proud. “His nose is probably two times its usual size by now.”

“Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving dude,” Daisy said, tipping her beer in Bobbi’s direction. “Sorry you had to deal with him.” There was something in her tone that piqued Bobbi’s interest, and she made a mental note to follow up on it later.

“Told you I could have sold tickets,” Hunter said, nudging Bobbi’s side.

“Well, now I feel badly we’ve got nothing better for you than the couch,” Jemma said. “It sounds like you’ve already had quite a night.”

“The couch is fine,” Bobbi assured her. She shifted and her thigh came into contact with Hunter’s leg, sending a spark of something racing up her spine that Bobbi was determined to ignore. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this.”

“Where were you staying before?” Daisy asked. She tilted her head, and Bobbi got the sense that she was being tested.

“I had a room for a while but the girl I was renting it from got back last week and I, um, didn’t really have a place to go after that, so I’ve just been around.” Bobbi shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ve got some more auditions coming up though, so I’m sure I’ll find something soon.”

Jemma was watching her sympathetically. “Actress, huh?” Hunter said. “Not an easy gig.”

Bobbi slumped back against the loveseat and tucked her feet up under her, making a face. “Tell me about it.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” Jemma said, patting Fitz’s knee as he got up off the couch and reached back to offer her a hand.

“Oh, no,” Bobbi began as Jemma got to her feet and leaned her head against Fitz’s shoulder.

“No, seriously.” Daisy shook her head. “We’ve all been there, ok?” She gave Bobbi a sympathetic smile. “And if Hunter’s anything to go by, once you punch Ward in the face it kind of becomes a habit. I’d hate to miss the next time.”

Bobbi smiled back, trying to ignore her niggling guilt about lying to these people.

“Goodnight,” Jemma yawned. “Bobbi, it was lovely to meet you.”

“Saved from sleeping on the couch by Ward’s nose,” Daisy said, grinning up at Fitz. She stood as Jemma and Fitz disappeared down the hall. “See you in the morning?” Daisy said. Bobbi nodded. “Night, Hunter.”

“Night, Dais,” Hunter said. He and Bobbi were silent as Daisy snagged a couple of empty beer bottles off the coffee table and went into the kitchen. The soccer game on television was still going, the volume turned low. “I’ll find you some blankets,” Hunter said.

Bobbi tilted her head towards him, feeling more at home here than she had in her own place since she’d been assigned to the L.A. bureau two years ago. She wasn’t sure if it was the pictures on the walls and the bookcase filled to bursting in one corner, or the sounds of Daisy putting things away in the kitchen, or just the warmth of Hunter beside her, but it made something ache in her chest. “Thanks,” she said softly.

“How’s that hand?” Hunter asked, setting his beer aside. He gently slid his fingers under her palm and removed the ice, setting her whole body aflame. Bobbi’s pulse quickened as Hunter lifted her hand. His eyes met hers and he paused with her hand a hairsbreadth from his mouth, but Bobbi couldn’t bring herself to pull her hand away. She held her breath as he brushed a kiss over her sore knuckles.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Bobbi tried to pull herself together. “I’m fine,” she said.

“Good,” Hunter murmured. “You know, I…”

“Brought blankets!” Daisy reappeared suddenly, breaking the spell. Bobbi yanked her hand back and sat up a little straighter, leaning away from Hunter’s warmth. Daisy dumped the pile of linens on the couch and gave a little wave before wandering off again.

“Right,” Hunter said, bracing his elbows on his knees and shooting Bobbi a self-depreciating grin. “That’s my cue to leave you the hell alone so you can get some sleep.”

“You bring home strange women that often?” Bobbi couldn’t resist asking.

Hunter tipped his head to one side. “Not in a long while. And none quite like you.” He got up and stretched, his shirt lifting just enough to expose bare skin. Yep, she still wanted to lick him. Dammit. “See you in the morning?” he asked, the same way Daisy had.

Bobbi nodded and watched him saunter out of the room before slumping back in her chair and letting out a long, slow breath.

Shit. This was going to be harder than she thought.


	3. Everything Zen

“Hey.”

Bobbi cracked open one eye. Her neck was stiff and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. The room was bathed in gray, early morning light, and nothing in it was familiar.

“Hey,” the voice whispered again. “Bobbi?” Bobbi managed to get her other eye open. Daisy was hovering over her.

Bobbi sat up, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Daisy furrowed her brow. “Nothing. We’re leaving in a few, okay?”

Her teeth felt as fuzzy as her brain and Bobbi had no idea where they were going at the crack of dawn, but Daisy seemed to think she did and Bobbi decided it was best to just play along and see where it led. If she managed to wrap this case up inside of two days, the higher ups would have to notice her. 

Stumbling out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Bobbi was grateful she’d thought to wear her bikini under her shorts and t-shirt because Daisy was standing in the kitchen barefoot, wearing shorts over her swimsuit. She was holding a mug with steam rising from it. “Coffee?” Bobbi asked gratefully.

Daisy grinned and shook her head, handing Bobbi a second steaming mug. “Sorry, green tea. We used to try and sneak coffee in the morning but Jemma’s got the nose of a bloodhound, so now if we want some we just go out for it.”

Bobbi stared down at the tea in her mug in dismay before taking a tentative sip, wrinkling her nose in anticipation. A second later, she relaxed again. “Oh,” she said in surprise. “That’s not bad.”

“It’s got a little caffeine in it, at least. And there’s the added bonus of not having to listen to a lecture about the cancer risks of roasted coffee beans.”

“She really took the California hippie thing to heart, huh?” Bobbi smiled and took another sip of tea.

Daisy shrugged. “She means well. Hunter’s loading the van. You ready?”

Bobbi snagged her sweatshirt and followed Daisy to the front door, slipping on her sandals as Daisy did the same and stepping out into the cold, grey morning. Hunter was just closing the van door, and the smile he gave her as she approached made her heart thump a little faster. “Dais found your wetsuit and we’ve always got extra boards,” he said. “Ready?”

Surfing, Bobbi suddenly realized. They were going surfing.

She squinted up at the grey sky doubtfully. “Um, I don’t want to slow you guys down or anything. I’ve really only been the one time and…”

Daisy nudged her shoulder. “Hey, we all start somewhere, right?” Hunter opened the passenger door and lifted an eyebrow, waiting, until Bobbi climbed in, clutching her half-drunk mug of tea. Daisy clambered in the back with the boards and curled up between the front seats. She patted Bobbi’s leg. “You’ll be fine.”

Hunter started the van and they slowly wound down out of the hills, watching the sky lighten as the fog began to lift. The world wasn’t entirely awake yet, and it was quiet in a way Bobbi didn’t usually experience in L.A. The tension in her shoulders unwound and she relaxed back against her seat.

Bobbi hadn’t missed the fact that Daisy had apparently gone through her bag at some point, but Daisy must have been satisfied with what she’d found because she was friendlier this morning than she’d been last night.

They parked in a nearly deserted lot next to the beach, and the waves crashing onto the sand looked dark and foreboding. Bobbi bit her lip and scrambled out of the car, trying to hide her nerves. If this was another test, she wasn’t going to fail. She quickly pulled on her wetsuit as the others did the same, and while she caught Hunter looking when she yanked off her shirt, he didn’t speak until they were walking across the beach carrying their boards.

“Just stick close, alright?” Hunter said, gazing out at the horizon. “You were doing fine yesterday.”

Bobbi glanced over at him. “You were watching?”

“You’re easy on the eyes, love. Everyone was watching.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Maybe not as close as I was.”

Bobbi hugged her board a little tighter as a warmth suffused her limbs. “Great,” she managed. “Glad you saw how much water went up my nose.”

Hunter laughed. “Come on.”

***

Bobbi managed to paddle out a little faster than she had the day before, more used to maneuvering the board through the swells, and the odd sensation of the leash tugging on her ankle. Daisy and Hunter were straddling their boards, waiting for her, and she managed to clamber up and sit like they were, shivering a little as the chilly water swirled around her legs.

Hints of blue sky were starting to peek through the gray haze overhead, and the houses scattered along the hill were tiny dots of color in a sea of green and brown. Bobbi glanced over her shoulder, trying to track the rhythm of the waves so she’d be ready when she tried to catch one, but Hunter had maneuvered himself closer to her and he reached out, grasping the edge of her board.

“Not yet,” he said. Bobbi looked over, wondering if she’d heard him wrong. “Just wait.”

On his other side, Daisy was already paddling in anticipation of a swell, her bright blue board surging through the water.

“Wait,” Hunter said again, releasing her board. Bobbi sat quietly, her hands braced against the deck while she kicked her legs occasionally to stay more or less in one place. She watched Hunter curiously out of the corner of her eye, but he just sat quietly next to her, watching the distant skyline.

Bobbi gave up trying to read his mind after a moment and joined him in contemplating the hills. She’d adjusted to the water temperature, though her fingers were a tad chilled, and the passing swells began to lull her into a state she wasn’t sure she had a name for. Her mind was quiet for the first time in years, the tension she always carried in her back melting away. The scent of salt and sand and seaweed filled her nose, replacing the ever-present smell of hot pavement and exhaust she would swear had seeped into her pores.

She closed her eyes and leaned back, tipping her face up towards the sky as the sun broke over the horizon. When she opened them again, Hunter was watching her with a grin on his face that rivaled the sunrise. “What?” she said, feeling self-conscious.

“There,” he said. “Now it’s time.” He stretched out on his board and Bobbi watched him paddle as a swell overtook him, tracking him until he was a distant figure emerging from the water near the beach.

She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but she had an uneasy feeling her life was teetering on the edge of becoming a lot more complicated.

***

Stumbling out of the surf, Bobbi coughed and shoved her hair out of her face. Daisy was sitting on the sand nearby, clapping and cheering. “You did it!”

“For like, three seconds, I think,” Bobbi gasped. “I’m definitely not rodeo material.”

Daisy grinned, standing and picking up her board. “Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“Coffee?” Bobbi perked up. “You’re on.” She turned toward the water, shading her eyes with one hand and trying to pick Hunter out of the slowly growing crowd of surfers in the water.

“Oh, he’s not coming in for another hour, at least.” Daisy waved a hand dismissively. “He’s in one of his I’m-one-with-the-ocean moods.”

Bobbi laughed. “Is that what that was?”

Daisy nodded as they headed for the van. “Yep. I used to think it was some kind of Mr. Miyagi thing, like he was passing on some ancient surfer wisdom that I was too much of a grom to get, but it turns out it’s just some Hunter thing.” She shook her head and slid open the back door, stashing her board inside and reaching for Bobbi’s.

“Hunter taught you to surf?” Bobbi asked, unzipping her wetsuit and gratefully stripping it off her arms. All she could taste was seawater, and her limbs were aching even though she hadn’t been out in the water nearly as long as yesterday.

Daisy hesitated, her smile slipping. “For the most part,” she said. “Come on, the coffee shop’s not far.”

Bobbi hurried out of her wetsuit and pulled her clothes back on while Daisy did the same, and a few minutes later Bobbi was clutching a steaming paper cup and inhaling deeply. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff,” she muttered. They were the only ones sitting on that patio in front of the café since the sun hadn’t cut through the morning chill quite yet.

“It was Ward,” Daisy said suddenly.

Bobbi started at hearing Ward’s name, almost spilling some of her precious coffee. “What?”

“He was the one who got me into it. Surfing.” Daisy stared out over the parking lot and the beach sloping down toward the Pacific across the street.

“Ok,” Bobbi said cautiously.

“It was a long time ago.” Daisy shrugged, still not looking at Bobbi. “I spent a lot of time on the beach after school and then suddenly here was this cool older guy taking an interest in me and…” She took a deep breath. “It took a while for things to go bad, but once they did, they went bad fast.” Daisy sipped her coffee and they sat in silence for a long minute. “My foster parents were sick of dealing with my shit, and I figured I was close enough to legal, so I just…took off, you know? Thought I could make it on my own. Ward helped me out at first, but, well, you’ve met him.” Daisy gave her a rueful smile. “He doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way.”

Bobbi was nearly boiling with rage at the idea of that asshole from last night taking advantage of Daisy, and she wished he was standing in front of her so she could punch him a few more times. She recalled Daisy’s comment last night about Hunter punching Ward more than once, and all the police reports with the two of them listed where no charges were ever filed. Bobbi bit her lip to keep from blurting out questions, waiting for Daisy to continue.

“I knew who Hunter was, of course. Everyone knows Hunter, even though they don’t, really. You know?” Daisy glanced over, her eyebrow lifting. Bobbi nodded cautiously. “Anyways, Ward got mad about something and left me on the beach one morning, which wasn’t usually a big deal, but the guys I knew had all taken off, so Hunter offered me a ride. He found out it was my birthday and we stopped at one of those stupid cupcake places to celebrate, and I ended up getting home a lot later than Ward expected. And the fact that Hunter dropped me off kind of compounded everything.” Daisy made a face. “Listen to me, still making excuses for that asshole. Long story short, I spent the rest of my eighteenth birthday locked in the bathroom with a black eye, but Hunter was a big part of the reason I didn’t spend my nineteenth that way. Him and Izzy.” She lifted her coffee and Bobbi automatically returned the toast.

“Izzy?” Bobbi repeated, trying to connect the name to any of the ones in Hunter’s file.

Daisy stared at the tabletop. “She died a couple years ago. Hunter took it really hard.” Daisy wrinkled her nose. “And then her sponsor picked up Ward. I’m glad she wasn’t around to see that.”

“She was a surfer?”

“One of the best.” Daisy finally smiled. “She made people see the pure joy in it, you know?”

Bobbi’s chest felt a little tight, and she cleared her throat. “She sounds great.”

“I think you would have liked her,” Daisy said, draining her coffee and setting the empty cup on the table. “Come on, Hunter should be totally done communing with nature or whatever by now.”

Bobbi forced out a laugh, though her head was spinning with all the new information Daisy had given her. She had no idea how any of this fit into the bank rip-offs, and the more she learned, the more she felt like she was trying to put together a puzzle with pieces from a different set.

She hated to even think it, but maybe Coulson had steered them wrong this time.

***

The sun was out in full force by the time they got back to the house.

“Fitz!” Hunter called, leaning the surfboards they’d used this morning back against the wall of the carport. The shed door was propped open, and Bobbi could hear the whine of a power tool.

Fitz popped his head out the door a moment later, pulling a respirator down to dangle around his neck. “How’d it go this morning?”

“I think it was a bit short for her.”

Fitz frowned and put his hands on his hips, studying the board Hunter had just returned. It was the one she’d used, Bobbi realized with a start. “Short?” she asked, bewildered.

Hunter glanced over at her. “Shorter’s easier to maneuver,” he explained. “But a little extra length gives you a smoother ride.” He smirked at her and Bobbi rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh.

Fitz seemed completely obvious to Hunter’s ridiculous innuendo, or possibly he’d just built up an immunity. He touched a board next to the one Bobbi had used with a color scheme that reminded her of sunrise. “This one’s finished. Should be a better fit.”

“Wait, you make these?” Bobbi asked.

Hunter lifted up the one Fitz had been talking about, sliding a hand along the deck. “Aren’t they gorgeous?” Hunter said.

Shrugging, Fitz looked torn between embarrassment and pride. “The way Hunter goes through them, I figured it was a good skill to have.”

Bobbi reached out and touched the board as well. “It’s beautiful.”

“That’s Jemma’s doing,” Fitz replied, all traces of embarrassment gone. “She’s got a good eye. I just shape them, really.”

Hunter snorted. “Yeah, it’s the color schemes that have got people lining up around the block for one of your boards, mate.”

“You and Jemma make a good team,” Bobbi said, sliding her hand along a streak of yellow that faded into a pale blue.

Fitz smiled, and she realized it was the first one she’d seen from him since they’d met. “We always have,” he said.

“Speaking of,” Hunter said, putting the surfboard back. “How’s the latest project coming?”

“She and Daisy were putting together the final touches,” Fitz replied. “And apparently she’s found a place that ships bees,” he sighed, sounding resigned.

“Bees?” Bobbi lifted her eyebrows.

“Ah, you haven’t seen the Jemma Simmons masterpiece,” Hunter said, holding out his hand. Bobbi took it, and he curled his fingers around her palm before tugging her toward the backyard. The pads of his fingers drew slow circles on her hand, and the muscles in his forearms flexed and relaxed with each pass. It was hard to concentrate on anything else. His touch seemed to slowly be waking up her entire body.

Bobbi was so distracted, she almost missed the fact that she was now standing amidst a veritable farmer’s market of fruits and vegetables, all neatly laid out in raised beds that covered nearly every foot of the backyard. “Is that corn?” she asked, astonished.

“Yep.” Hunter pointed at a few other plants. “Tomatoes, of course, they’ve been excellent this year. She’s got enough squash going to feed the neighborhood, peas, onions, I think those are artichokes, and that’s something new, no idea what’s going on there.” He frowned a low patch of greenery in one corner.

“Daisy mentioned she was into the earth mother thing,” Bobbi said, awed. Set to one side was a small, raised wooden box, presumably for the future beehive. “But this is like, next level.”

“Jemma’s not one to do things by halves,” Hunter laughed.

“How long have you guys been living here?”

“Couple years now.” Hunter paused. “Well, Jem and Fitz have. Dais and I hit the circuit sometimes, so we’re not always around.”

Bobbi’s heart sank, and she slipped her hand from Hunter’s grasp. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been hoping he’d tell her he’d been in L.A. this whole time. Something she and Coulson knew for sure, after her department had finished sorting through a plethora of digital dead ends, was that the banks’ accounts had been infiltrated and slowly drained by persons unknown around the globe.

Or one person who traveled quite a bit and enjoyed tropical locations primarily known for their surf.

“I didn’t know you competed.”

Hunter shrugged. “If it feels right. Been trying to convince Daisy she’s good enough to hold her own for a while now, but she hasn’t taken the plunge.”

“She told me about Ward this morning,” Bobbi said, glancing over to gauge Hunter’s reaction. “Not the whole story, but enough. She’s lucky to have you.”

Hunter stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, his cheeks turning pink. “We’ve seen each other at our worst. Kind of hard to remember she’d not family now, to be honest. We all look out for each other.”

Bobbi reached toward a growing ear of corn. “Seems like you’re doing better than a lot of real families.”

Hunter slanted a look at her. “That’s a voice of experience.”

Bobbi shrugged, ready to tell her half-truth, but Hunter’s steady, understanding gaze made her hesitate. “They’re still mad I want to work for a living,” she said instead. “My mother spent a lot of time introducing me to ‘the right people’ so she could finally move up a few rungs on the social ladder.”

Hunter tipped his head back, squinting at the bright blue sky. “Reckon this kind of life wasn’t the one they were dreaming of.”

Bobbi couldn’t take her eyes off the long line of Hunter’s throat, the skin bronzed from his time in the sun. He probably tasted like salt water and sweat, and Bobbi took a step in his direction before she could stifle the urge to find out. “No,” she finally replied. “They would hate everything about this.”

“But not you.” Hunter’s fingertips grazed her arm, sliding up towards her shoulder and raising goosebumps in their wake.

“I definitely don’t hate it,” Bobbi said softly.

Hunter brushed her hair back over her shoulder and traced the line of her jaw, watching her face the entire time. Bobbi didn’t move. She could hardly breathe. “That’s good,” he murmured, before dropping his hand. He gave her his crooked smile and ambled toward the house, leaving Bobbi standing in the garden while she recovered her wits.

The trouble was, she was starting to like everything about this a little too much. Especially Hunter.


	4. It's Oh So Quiet

Bobbi collapsed into the chair opposite Coulson and glared at him. “What?” he asked innocently.

“Did you have to pick a place that required two bus transfers and a six-block walk in the middle of the damn day for me to get to?”

A smile briefly flitted across Coulson’s face. “Pretty much,” he said. “Any trouble getting away?”

“None,” Bobbi sighed. “I got a travel mug of green tea and two different gluten-free homemade snack bars to tide me over for the ‘audition’ today, plus a ride to the bus stop.”

“Homemade?” Coulson perked up, despite the half-eaten danish in front of him.

Bobbi pulled the bars out of her purse and slid them over the table before stealing the danish, tearing off a chunk to stick in her mouth, and groaning so loudly the guy in the next booth looked over in surprise. “Fuck, sugar is so delicious.”

“Did you forget?” Coulson said, sounding amused.

“Listen, you.” Bobbi pointed at him. “Four days is a long time to go without a donut.” Not to mention a _very_ long time to be sleeping on a couch in the same house as Lance Hunter. Last night she’d found herself walking down the hall towards his room more than once, every excuse for doing so lamer than the last. She’d finally resorted to grabbing a random book off the shelves in the living room, which had luckily been jammed full of diagrams and equations and enough multi-syllable words to send her off to dreamland in five seconds flat. 

Coulson leaned back, chewing happily on whatever nut and fruit concoction Jemma had packed. “So, what have you learned so far?”

Bobbi tore off another piece of danish and let it melt on her tongue while she sifted through all the information she’d gleaned, trying to determine what was the most important. “You were right about Hunter traveling the circuit. Daisy usually goes with him.”

Coulson looked pleased. “So the timeline adds up.”

“Yes,” Bobbi agreed, frowning. “But not much else does. I haven’t seen any sign of illegal activity.” Bobbi stuck another piece of danish in her mouth. She should get a second one for the bus ride home. What Jemma didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “No drug paraphernalia or wildly expensive things lying around the house, no weird visitors or secretive behavior. Hunter drives a van that has to be at least twenty years old, for god’s sake.”

Coulson pulled the second bar from the bag, frowning. “There was another rash of OD’s over the weekend.”

“You still think it’s all connected?”

“All I know is that the facts point to Hunter. He goes out of town, bank accounts start getting drained, the activity traces back more or less to where he is, he comes home, overdoses go up.” Coulson shrugged. “Not enough for a warrant, but it’s sure as hell enough to get my attention.”

“That could be anybody on the circuit,” Bobbi said, pushing away the remains of the danish. “Besides, Jemma’s such a health fanatic that aside from occasionally sneaking coffee in the morning after dawn patrol, Hunter pretty much lives by her rules. I guarantee she does not allow Fentanyl in the house.”

Coulson leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms, eyeing Bobbi critically. “You know as well as I do that we narrowed it down to him or a handful of others, based on the locations we’ve traced, and he’s the only one with a record and no visible means of income. Maybe the others know what he’s doing, maybe they don’t, we’re just looking for facts. What’s really going on, Bobbi?”

She dropped her eyes to the tabletop and traced the rings etched into the worn surface by years of coffee mugs and glasses of water. “Nothing,” she said, wrinkling her nose as the lie left her mouth. “Sorry.” She looked up guiltily at Coulson. “It’s just, the people he lives with, they’re all really…I like them. They’re good people, the kind I thought I’d be helping, not investigating.”

“You think IDing a guy responsible for multiple deaths isn’t helping?”

“That’s not what I said,” Bobbi replied, frowning. “I can’t shake the feeling we’re looking in the wrong place.”

“People aren’t always what they seem, Bobbi. You should know that better than anyone.”

“But what if…” Bobbi trailed off, embarrassed. Coulson was the closest thing she had to a friend at the office, a fact which sometimes galled her, and other times made her exceptionally grateful. She hated feeling like she was second-guessing him.

“If we’re wrong, get us proof, Bobbi.”

***

The van wasn’t parked in front of the house when she finally made it back that afternoon. And the front door was locked. Bobbi stood on the front walk, hot, sweaty, and tired from her trek up the hill, staring in confusion at the door handle that wouldn’t budge. The door hadn’t been locked once since she’d started staying there.

Walking around to the side of the house, she realized the moped was gone and Fitz’s shed was closed up tight, too. Had she messed up somehow and they’d taken off after figuring out who she really was? Bobbi continued around the side of the house, trying to ignore the disappointment curdling in her belly. If they had left, it was as good as admitting they were guilty.

The garden was quiet, other than the sound of a nearby windchime, and the basket Jemma used to hold fruits and vegetables was sitting on the back stoop. Bobbi reached for the door handle and it turned under her hand. Opening the door, she stepped inside, letting out a sigh of relief when everything looked the same as it always did.

“Hello?” she called out, just in case. “Guys?”

The house was silent. Standing in the middle of the room, Bobbi weighed her options. Her skin itched a little at the thought of invading the privacy of people she was coming to consider friends, but now was an opportune time to search for anything that could prove to Coulson that Hunter wasn’t their guy.

She dropped her bag on the couch and looked around, trying to decide where to start before rolling her eyes at herself. With the unknown amount of time available to her, clearly the first place she should search was Hunter’s bedroom. He wasn’t here, so there was no reason for her to avoid it. Not that she _needed_ to avoid it. She was a grown woman, for god’s sake, not some horny teenager who couldn’t keep it in her pants. It was only prudent to keep her distance. He was a suspect, after all.

Mind made up, Bobbi marched down the hall, hesitating outside the threshold of Hunter’s room for the barest of seconds before opening the door and stepping inside.

The entire room smelled like him. Bobbi took a deep breath, feeling heat pool between her hipbones despite the corner of her brain that was trying to sound an alarm. Yes, fine, maybe it was a bad idea to indulge herself, but what was the harm? The more time she spent with Hunter and the others, the more convinced she was that he wasn’t their guy. All she had to do to exonerate Hunter was find the real culprit and then she’d be free to…totally screw up chance she had with him. Somehow, she didn’t think her excellent reasons for lying about who she was were going to be enough for Hunter.

Sighing, Bobbi headed for the dresser first. A quick search through his drawers revealed nothing other than he had horrendous taste in patterned shorts and a collection of t-shirts advertising surf companies that took up three drawers. There was nothing hidden among them, or his socks, or the very few pairs of boxer-briefs that had nearly sent her thoughts down a very dangerous path. 

Shaking herself, she turned her attention to the top of the dresser, rummaging through the odds and ends he kept there, when her attention was caught by a framed photograph. It was of Hunter, standing on a beach somewhere, one arm slung around Daisy’s shoulders and the other around a woman Bobbi didn’t recognize.

She picked it up, gazing down at the tanned, grinning face of who she’d bet was Izzy. The woman in the photograph was as tall as Hunter, with dark hair and a broad smile. She was older than Bobbi had imagined, and not at all the pixyish waif she’d been picturing. Daisy hadn’t mentioned Izzy since their conversation about Ward, and Hunter hadn’t mentioned her at all, but whatever the story was, obviously they’d been close.

Bobbi glanced up at the wall over the dresser, where postcards from various far-flung places were haphazardly tacked to the wall alongside an occasional surf logo and wondered if Daisy’d had a hand in the framing of this particular photograph. Guiltily, Bobbi turned it over, carefully removing the back to make sure there wasn’t anything tucked away inside. Nothing. She ran her finger down the frame before setting it down, positioning it the same way it’d been before.

Next up was the nightstand drawer. She found a box of condoms—unopened, which shouldn’t have pleased her nearly as much as it did—a stash of gummi bears Bobbi was certain Jemma didn’t know about, and a bunch of receipts haphazardly stuffed in the back. She spent a painfully long time checking each little piece of paper for unusual purchases, holding her breath every time she heard a noise, but they were almost all for food, drink, or surf supplies.

The closet was small, cramped and littered with sneakers. It also yielded absolutely nothing in the way of evidence. Under the bed was the same. Bobbi reached for a pillow, wondering if she should take the time to strip the bed, when the front door slammed.

Shit. She hadn’t heard the van.

She climbed to her feet and clenched her fists, trying to calm her pounding heart as footsteps started in her direction. Bobbi almost convinced herself it was Daisy, or Fitz and Jemma, but the tread was too heavy, too sure. There was nowhere for her to hide, and if she did, that would only make her look more suspicious.

She met Hunter in the doorway to his bedroom, leaning against it and smiling sheepishly at his raised eyebrow.

“Didn’t expect you home this early,” he said. “Or in my bedroom.”

Bobbi lifted one shoulder. “They picked someone and sent the losers packing,” she said, trying to sound glum. “I was just seeing if you were home.”

“Were you?” Hunter murmured, taking a step closer and mirroring her pose against the wall, his chest almost touching hers.

She nodded, her body humming with awareness of his proximity. This close, she could smell the ocean and surf wax on him. It was hard not to lean in and lick a stripe from his collarbone to his ear, but things were complicated enough already. He must have been out surfing, which meant he hadn’t been out knocking over banks. Coulson might not agree with her deduction, but there was just no way Hunter had managed to sell drugs right under her nose in the last few days, ergo he wasn’t their bank robber. If only she could find a better suspect.

“Sorry to hear things didn’t work out.” Hunter braced his hand against the doorframe next to her head and leaned in, his stubble scraping her jaw and his mouth next to her ear. Bobbi’s breath hitched, and the tiny thread of self-control she’d been hanging onto snapped. “Anything I can do?”

A whimper escaped Bobbi’s throat and her hand fisted into his shirt to yank him against her, turning her head to capture his mouth. He tasted like heat and coffee and the salty tang of ocean water, and the noise she made when his demanding tongue entered her mouth was more obscene than her earlier tryst with the danish. There was nothing soft about the way he kissed her. Their lips and teeth and tongues all clashing while they figured out how to fit together.

Bobbi moaned when he grabbed her ass and ground his erection against her. There was nothing soft about him at all. She wrapped one arm around his neck and tugged on his shirt, desperate to feel him, nearly falling as they stumbled into his room. The door somehow slammed shut behind him even though he had one hand up her shirt and the other down the back of her shorts.

“Christ,” he hissed, catching her earlobe between his teeth. “You’re a fucking vision. Those wankers are idiots for not choosing you, you know that?”

Bobbi paused in her quest to take off his shirt just long enough to bask in the compliment, tipping her head back as Hunter laid a line of sucking kissed down her throat and his hands came up to cup her breasts. He yanked down her bra in search of her nipples and her eyes rolled up in her head as sparks of desire worked their way through her body. Impatient, Bobbi pulled her shirt over her head and undid the clasp of her bra, letting it slip down her arms.

“Your shirt,” she gasped, tugging insistently.

Hunter growled and yanked it off, tossing it across the room while Bobbi sank gratefully down on the bed her hands sliding down his bare torso. She leaned in, grasping his hips to keep him from following her just yet, and mouthed along the vee of muscle just peeking out of his shorts. He tasted just like he smelled, and somehow even better than she imagined. His cock was straining against his shorts, and she traced it with one finger, thrilled at the evidence of how much he wanted her. She’d been soaking wet since she’d started searching his damn room.

“Later,” he gasped, pushing her down on the bed and crawling up over her. “Need you now.” He bent to take one of her nipples between his teeth and tugging on it until she whined, arching up off the bed. His fingers undid the button and zipper of her shorts, pushing them down over her hips, and she kicked them off her legs while he did the same with his own. He groaned as he stretched out on top of her, his erection nestled against her thigh, and Bobbi sucked on his lower lip.

“Now,” Bobbi whispered against his mouth. “Please, Lance.”

He lifted his head and gazed down at her with his crooked smile while he fumbled for the drawer of the nightstand, not even looking as receipts spilled onto the floor until he finally came up with the box of condoms. Bobbi scraped a fingernail over one of his nipples, drawing a hiss of pleasure from him while he tore off the box top and sat back on his heels. Bobbi propped herself up on her elbows to watch, drinking in the sight of his straining cock as he rolled the condom down. 

He looked up and caught her staring, making her cheeks heat, but she refused to break eye contact, lifting her chin in wordless acknowledgment that she wasn’t ashamed to admit he looked pretty damn good. He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he moved over her, lowering his hips until his cock brushed against her inner thigh, so close to where she needed it. Her pussy clenched around nothing, waiting impatiently to be filled.

“Like what you see?” he murmured, biting her collarbone.  

Bobbi reached down to grab his cock and position it at her entrance. “Is it just for show or are you going to use it?”

Hunter threaded a hand into her hair and used his grip to pin her down to the mattress. “Since you asked so nicely.” The head of his cock pushed inside, and he began working the rest of his shaft into her at a slow but unrelenting pace that made Bobbi’s toes curl.

“More,” she hissed. Bobbi grabbed his ass, urging him along, and Hunter kissed her again, this time slow and unhurried, as his cock filled her.

“This time we’ll do it your way,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Next time it’s my turn.” Then he braced his arms on either side of her and began to thrust in earnest, drawing a strangled cry from Bobbi’s throat as her hips lifted to meet his every stroke.

In the grand scheme of things, she decided dazedly, this wasn’t the worst decision she’d ever made. She really did like him a hell of a lot more than she probably should, considering the job she was here to do, and if this led to something that might clear him of suspicion, she’d do it a thousand more times. She wrapped a leg around his hip and pulled him down for a messy kiss as he drove into her.

Yeah, a thousand more times would be good.


	5. I Will Buy You a New Life

Bobbi woke up slowly, her nose registering she was somewhere unfamiliar before she could get her eyes open. She rolled slightly, burying her face in a pillow and breathing deeply. The rest of her body started to wake up, and she flung one arm out, searching for Hunter, but only encountered empty bed.

Something swatted her ass and Bobbi lifted her head, scowling. Hunter was standing beside the bed, pulling on a shirt and smirking at her. “Why are you dressed?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

“I promise you can take it all off me later,” he said, leaning down and nuzzling her ear before nipping it with his teeth. “You up for dawn patrol?”

Bobbi managed to sit up, her muscles protesting and her stomach growling. “It’s morning?” she asked, glancing toward the dark window.

“Technically.” Hunter shrugged. “Will be by the time we get to the beach. Are you joining us, or can I look forward to finding you naked in my bed when I get back?”

Bobbi lifted her eyebrows. “I’m naked in your bed now.”

“And it was a delightful discovery this morning,” Hunter murmured, leaning down to kiss her. Bobbi clutched the front of his shirt and tried to drag him back into bed. “Even with all the drool.”

Bobbi stopped tugging and glared up at him. “I do not drool.”

“Of course not,” he said, standing up and smoothing his shirt down. A second later, Bobbi’s shorts came flying towards the bed. “You coming?”

“Not in the way I expected,” Bobbi grumbled.

Hunter laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his smile broad. “That,” he said, leaning down and stealing another kiss, “We’ll save for later. Don’t want to spoil you.”

Bobbi snorted, pulling one of Hunter’s t-shirts over her head. “You have a very high opinion of yourself, mister.”

“Says the woman who was up half the night screaming my name. Can you do that again when we’re on the beach, by the way? Otherwise, no one’s going to believe you actually fancy me.”

“I’m not helping you brag about your sexual prowess.”

“Aha, but you admit it exists! What if I buy you coffee?”

Hunter stood in the doorway as Bobbi pulled on her shorts, his body blocking the hall and his hands overhead, hanging onto the frame. He looked relaxed and happy, and for a minute, it was dangerously easy for her to forget why she was here in the first place. It hurt to know it wouldn’t last.  She’d be back at her desk before long, wearing a suit carefully chosen to not be too tight or too flashy, plain white button up in place and her hair pulled back severely.

And Hunter would know who she really was.

Until then, though, she had a few more nights to enjoy this. To enjoy him. “If you buy me coffee, I will not deny knowing you,” she said, getting up.

“Coffee and breakfast?”

Bobbi brightened. “The greasy kind with hydrogenated oils and mystery meats?”

“I think that can be arranged.”

“I’m all yours.”

“You’re easier than I thought.”

“Say that again when I’m more awake and I’m taking you down.”

“Promise?”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Move, I need to find my swimsuit.” Hunter dropped his arms, wrapping them around her shoulders and pulling her in for a lingering kiss.

“Oh my god, I’d say get a room, but I don’t think you two need any encouragement,” Daisy said. “Come on, I gotta hit the water, work off some of these nerves.”

Bobbi released Hunter and squeezed past him so she could get to the bathroom. “Two minutes,” she promised.

***

Staggering out of the water with her surfboard tucked under her arm, Bobbi knew she was grinning like an idiot. “Did you see that?”

Daisy nodded and smiled. “Awesome job.” Her tone was a lot more subdued than usual, and Bobbi was just about ask her what was wrong when she spotted the red truck in the parking lot. Ward was talking to another surfer, a vaguely familiar-looking kid, who was carrying a broken surfboard.

“Shit,” Bobbi muttered. “When did Ward get here?”

Daisy made a face. “Couple minutes ago. He doesn’t usually come this far north.”

“Bob!” Hunter slung an arm over her shoulders. “Great run, love.” He kissed her cheek, his wet hair brushing her ear.

“Ward’s here,” she said, jerking her chin toward the parking lot.

“Fuck. Ready to go, Dais?”

 Daisy straightened her shoulders. “No. He can’t chase me off my beach.”

She headed for the water and Hunter glanced at Bobbi, shrugging. “One more?” he asked.

“If you want my legs to work later, I’m thinking no.”

“I definitely want all of you to be working later,” he murmured, leaning in to give her a real kiss. Bobbi let him tug her close, tasting salt water and Hunter as he slipped his tongue in her mouth before pulling back. “We’ll just be a few.” He trotted toward the ocean, ignoring a wolf whistle from someone further down the beach. Bobbi adjusted her grip on her board and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, fighting a blush and admiring Hunter’s ass as he dove back into the surf.

“Scraping the bottom of the barrel, huh?” someone said behind her.

Bobbi whirled around and found Ward standing there, his board next to him on the beach while he pulled on his wetsuit. His nose was disappointingly normal-sized, though the shadow of a bruise remained under one of his eyes. “Hardly,” she snorted, turning her back on him.

There was silence for a minute, and Bobbi hoped that meant he was leaving, but instead he surprised her by stepping up next to her and surveying the surfers already in the water. “You think Hunter’s going to get you what you want?” Ward asked, his tone casual. 

Bobbi wrinkled her nose. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s a has-been, sweetheart. He’ll never be more than this.” Ward gestured at the ocean. “Whatever you think he’s got to help you get ahead, it’s not going to happen.”

Bobbi put her hand on one hip, her chest tight as Ward’s little speech struck home, though not in the way he probably intended. “It’s not like that.”

Ward smirked. “It’s always like that, sweetheart. Especially with a girl like you. When you come to your senses—and if you beg nicely—I might give you another chance.” He headed for the surf and disappeared into the water before Bobbi could pick her jaw up off her chest.

If she thought Ward was smart enough to pull off the bank schemes—and his social media accounts didn’t conveniently provide him with alibis for several of the transactions— she’d definitely peg him as their number one suspect.

Scowling, Bobbi headed for the van, her good mood from this morning disappearing like fog in the morning sun.

***

“Thought you were hungry?” Hunter said, leaning back in the booth with a mug of coffee. His plate was scraped clean, but Bobbi was still pushing around a mess of eggs and hash browns.

She lifted one shoulder and gave up, dropping her fork. “Me too,” she said. Taking a deep breath and tamping her guilt down, she lifted her eyes and tried to smile. “Sorry, I guess I’m taking the rejection yesterday harder than I thought.”

Hunter frowned. “Screw those bastards, you’ll find something better.” He tossed a few dollars on the table and slid out of the booth, holding out his hand. “Besides, I’ve got a little job for you in the meantime.”

Bobbi put her hand in his, letting him tug her up and linking their fingers together as they left the café. “What kind of job?” she asked, her pulse kicking up a notch. Shit. If this was about drugs, she was going to feel like a world class idiot. 

Hunter stopped in the middle of the parking lot and looked around. Bobbi did the same, though she had no idea why. Daisy had begged off breakfast and clearly hadn’t made it back yet. The blue van was kind of hard to miss. “We’re going to put those acting skills of yours to use, Bob.” Hunter turned to face her. “I need you,” he murmured quietly, moving closer until his lips nearly brushed her ear, “to pretend you’re madly in love with me.”

Relief bubbled up inside her, and Bobbi burst out laughing.

Hunter pulled back, his eyebrows lifting. “I was hoping for slightly less mirth, but I suppose it’s good to know we’ll really be stretching your skill set.”

“Oh my god.” Bobbi wiped at her eyes and grabbed the front of Hunter’s shirt, dragging him closer. She sucked on his lower lip before deepening the kiss, sliding her tongue along the roof of his mouth and sighing happily. He made a noise of surprise before slipping a hand into her back pocket and squeezing her butt. Bobbi broke the kiss but didn’t move away, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. “I can do that, but what the hell for, Hunter?”

He grinned at her. “You’ll see. Daisy’s here.” He started towards a nondescript beige sedan that had just pulled in and Bobbi frowned.

“Where’s the van?”

“This is just a loaner,” Hunter said, opening the back door and gesturing for her to climb in. Bobbi slid into the middle of the bench seat and tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Jemma was driving, wearing a crisp button-down with her hair in a ponytail and Daisy was next to her in what could only be described as a power suit. Her hair was stick-straight and a shade of blonde so common in L.A. that Bobbi probably would have passed her on the street without a second glance. Blinking, Bobbi turned to Fitz. His hand was resting on the back of the driver’s seat, his fingers tangled in Jemma’s hair, and he was also wearing a button down.

“Um, where are we going?” Bobbi asked in confusion.

Daisy turned and handed Bobbi an enormous glass jar of change. Bobbi took it automatically as Hunter climbed in and pulled the door shut. “You sure about this, Hunter?” Daisy asked, her gaze never leaving Bobbi.

Hunter slung an arm around Bobbi’s shoulder. “She’ll do great.”

Bobbi met Jemma’s eyes in the rearview mirror and swallowed the rest of her questions, deciding it would be best to play along. Whatever was going on, it was something big.

“How’d you end up in the back, mate?” Hunter leaned forward to address Fitz.

“Someone forgot to call shotgun,” Daisy said, sounding smug.

“It’s an absurd rule!” Fitz scowled.

“You snooze, you lose,” Daisy sang. She put on a pair of sunglasses half the size of her face and pulled a leather briefcase onto her lap that looked like it cost more than the car.

“Am I supposed to do something with this?” Bobbi hefted the jar in her hand.

The car came to a sudden stop and Jemma turned to examine her. Bobbi held her breath, feeling like she was one of Jemma’s experimental recipes that hadn’t turned out exactly as she’d planned. “We’re trusting you,” Jemma said cryptically.

Bobbi nodded and swallowed around the lump in her throat. She was frantically trying to put all this into some kind of context when Hunter opened the car door and offered her a hand out. “Where are we going?” Bobbi asked, clutching the jar of coins and standing on the sidewalk while they watched the car drive away.

“We’ve got a bus to catch,” Hunter said, taking the jar from her and grabbing her hand. “You’re my loving new wife and this-” he hefted the jar “-is our honeymoon fund.” They turned the corner and Bobbi spotted the bus stop on the next block. “Ready?” Hunter murmured in her ear.

Bobbi squeezed his hand and prayed this was just some elaborate hazing ritual. “Ready.”

***

She wasn’t ready.

Bobbi looked up at the building they were standing in front of, fending off Hunter’s increasingly wandering hands while trying to keep hold of the jar, and her stomach dropped into her shoes. A bank. Their destination was a bank.

Hunter shot her a grin, sliding his arm around her waist and tucking his thumb into the pocket of her shorts. “Time for some fun.”

Bobbi couldn’t speak, and her feet were leaden as Hunter opened the door and steered her into the enormous, marble-floored lobby. A man in suit brushed past them, frowning at his phone, and for the first time since she’d gone undercover, Bobbi felt completely out of place. She tugged on the hem of her damp t-shirt and clutched the jar of coins a little tighter. She and Hunter stuck out like sore thumbs. There was no way this bank was going to give them the time of day, let alone allow Hunter anywhere near the kind of sensitive information he would need to access their accounts.

“Hunter,” Bobbi whispered, plastering on a smile as one of the tellers looked up and spotted them, lifting an immaculately-groomed eyebrow. “What the hell are we doing?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you, sugarlips?” Hunter responded loudly in the most atrocious attempt at Texan twang she’d ever heard. “You deserve the best and I’m gonna give it to you.” He gave her an incredibly unsubtle wink, causing the teller to lift her other eyebrow, and Bobbi wanted to sink through the floor.

“Stop it,” she hissed, elbowing him in the ribs.

Hunter turned his head and nuzzled her temple. “Help me out here, Bob,” he said under his breath. “That’s my feisty wildcat,” he said, his voice loud enough to carry.

A man in a nearby glass-enclosed office marked ‘Manager’ stood up, frowning, and Bobbi froze as the two people he’d been talking to turned to look in her direction. Jemma and Fitz were here. Bobbi’s eyes flicked to a blonde woman in the lobby perched on a leather, high-backed chair with her legs crossed, looking extremely annoyed. And there was Daisy.

Bobbi drew in a shuddering breath and plastered an inane smile on her face. “You think you can top last night, babe?” she said, reaching back and squeezing his butt.

A grin crossed Hunter’s face. “As I recall, it was mostly you on top, darlin’.”

The manager lifted a hand to his temple, sinking back into his chair, and Bobbi would swear Daisy almost smiled. Bobbi let out a ridiculous giggle, feeling herself blush as Hunter dragged her over to the counter and relieved her of the jar of coins. What the hell were they all up to?

“Can I help you?” the teller asked, her lip curling up like she smelled something foul.

Hunter thumped the jar of change on the counter, making the woman jump. “We’d like to cash this in,” he announced, wrapping both his arms around Bobbi and dropping tiny, obnoxiously noisy kisses all over her face as Bobbi struggled not to pin him down so she could remind him what real kissing was supposed to be like.

“This isn’t a casino.” The teller frowned.

Hunter looked up, his expression switching from dopey to angry so quickly Bobbi did a doubletake. “My mama didn’t raise no idiot. I know where I am,” he snarled. The teller took a step back even though she was ensconced behind protective glass. “I promised my bride a honeymoon and she’s gonna get it.” He turned to Bobbi, once again all smiles and sweetness. “Where do you wanna go first, angel face?”  

Bobbi barely resisted rolling her eyes. “Ooh, can we go to France, baby?” she cooed.

The woman behind the counter snorted, drawing their attention again. “We don’t exchange loose change,” she said. “And this is hardly enough for a trip to France.”

“Hey!” Hunter pointed an accusing finger. “We’ll go wherever my woman wants, and money’s money.” He shoved the jar against the glass and the woman backed up another step.

“Come on, babe.” Bobbi tugged on Hunter’s shirt. “I’m bored. How long is this going to take?”

Hunter didn’t look at her, but his lip curled up in a way that told her he was enjoying himself. “Hang on, honey pie, let me take care of this. I wanna speak to your manager,” he barked at the teller. His hand wrapped around the jar of coins. Over his shoulder, Bobbi watched Daisy stand up, clutching her briefcase and glaring in their direction. A man in a suit came rushing out of an unmarked door and stood in front of Daisy, wringing his hands while she shook her head. Behind her, the man who’d been talking to Jemma and Fitz emerged from his office and was crossing the lobby.

“Excuse me,” the manager said, sounding irritated. “What can I…”

Hunter whirled around, and a moment later there was an enormous, unexpected crash.

Bobbi stifled a scream as the jar exploded at her feet before remembering the part she was playing. Opening her mouth, she let out a horrified, high-pitched shriek that had even Hunter staring at her in surprise. “My honeymoon!” Bobbi wailed. Glass skittered in all directions followed by an absolute flood of pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters rolling across the pristine marble floor. The teller had both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide, and the manager was staring at the mess on the floor, his mouth hanging open.

Bobbi started kneel, her hands reaching for the nearest coins, when Hunter grabbed her arm and pulled her up. “Watch the glass, darlin’.” He glared at the speechless manager in front of them. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“I didn’t-” the manager sputtered. A security guard was hurrying in their direction.

Jemma and Fitz were watching from the office, standing beside the manager’s desk and whispering to one another. Daisy was poking at her phone, irritation plain as day on her face, while the besuited man beside her frantically gestured toward the unmarked door. A moment later she opened her briefcase and tucked her phone inside, lifting her chin and marching toward the front doors. Fitz knelt down to tie his shoe, and for a split-second, Bobbi would swear he was looking right at her and smiling.

“No, I’m not leaving!” Hunter announced. “That’s my money all over your damn floor, and I want it back!”

“Sir,” the security guard said, darting a look at the bank manager. “If you’ll just calm down-”

“Calm down?” Hunter said, his voice getting louder. “ _Calm down_? Is this how you treat all your customers?”

Bobbi clutched his arm and buried her face in his shoulder, letting out a loud, fake sob. “I just wanted to go to France,” she wailed.

“Gary,” the manager said through clenched teeth to the man who’d been trying to help Daisy. “Please escort these people to your office and call someone to clean up this mess.” He gave Hunter a pained smile. “Sir, I assure you, we’ll straighten this all out for you and your…uh, lovely wife.” He jerked his head at Gary and retreated to his office, where Jemma and Fitz were once again settled in their chairs, waiting patiently.

“Um, so, right this way?” Gary said, sounding unsure.

“There now, see, corn pone?” Hunter said, stroking a hand through her hair. “I told you things would be just fine.”

His nicknames were bordering on ridiculous. Bobbi stifled another pretend sob, opened her mouth, and bit his shoulder. Hunter retaliated by pinching her butt and making her squeak. “Later,” he murmured into her ear, his voice heavy with promise.

Bobbi hoped to god there would be a later. She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but she had a sinking feeling she’d witnessed something that could break her case wide open. The bank hacks, unlike the clumsy drug smuggling, were sophisticated, smart, and had flown under the radar for a long time. Whoever had coordinated them knew what they were doing.

It wasn’t just Hunter pulling the heists. It was all of them.


	6. Where Is My Mind

They’d taken a cab and two buses before ending up back at the beach, where the blue van was waiting for them.

Hunter had fallen quiet as they drove the final stretch home, and Bobbi had followed his example even though she was bursting with questions. They’d sat in Gary’s office for almost an hour being plied with sparkling water while someone had counted their scattered change. Hunter had lounged in the chair next to her, showing no interest in the computer or the file cabinet. The coins had added up to nearly two hundred dollars, but that was a pittance compared to the stolen money the FBI was chasing. She was clearly missing something.

Hunter pulled up in front of the house and shut off the engine, leaving them in silence. Bobbi was about to ask for an explanation when Hunter reached over, slid a hand into her hair, and pulled her towards him. His hand cupped the back of her head while his tongue swept possessively through her mouth, and Bobbi found herself debating the pros and cons of getting naked in a vehicle for the first time since high school.

“You did great, love,” Hunter said as they separated, his eyes shining with pride.

“I…what?”

“You were perfect. Usually I just get kicked out on my arse, not offered gift cards and cash in exchange for never coming back.” Hunter snorted. “Like we’d go back.”

“We wouldn’t,” Bobbi said cautiously.

“Stuffy place like that doesn’t deserve our business, darlin’,” Hunter said in his terrible Texas twang.

Bobbi smiled despite the nervous energy still zinging through her veins. “That accent is atrocious.”

“My accent is perfect! You’re just not getting the full picture. Dais forgot my hat. I promise I’ll wear it for you tonight, sugar plum.” His grin turned wicked. “And nothing else.”

Rolling her eyes, Bobbi fought to keep her smile from turning to an answering grin. “Apparently, you’re planning on sleeping alone.”

“Fine,” Hunter said. “I’ll let you wear it.” He opened the driver’s side door, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and smirking. “And nothing else.”

“You’re impossible.” She got out of the van and headed up the walk to the house. The front door was wide open, letting in the afternoon breeze, and something smelled delicious.

Hunter caught up with her and reached out to take her hand, lifting it to his lips and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “In all seriousness, Bob, you were amazing today. Thanks for the assist.”

“And what, exactly, did I assist?”

“I’ll tell you all about it later. Let’s eat first, alright?”

Bobbi began to protest, only to have her growling stomach betray her. She sighed. “Fine, but you’ll tell me everything after?”

“Everything.” He opened the front door and ushered her inside.

“Bobbi!” Jemma exclaimed cheerfully from her spot near the stove. “You were wonderful.”

“Wasn’t she?” Hunter replied, sliding a hand along Bobbi’s lower back and nudging her past the fridge. Retrieving two beers, he opened one and passed it to Bobbi before opening the second for himself. Fitz leaned back in his chair and tilted his beer in Bobbi’s direction, smiling, and even Daisy, her hair once again its natural color, looked pleased. Her elbows were propped on the kitchen table while she typed away on her laptop. “Right, Dais?” Hunter dropped into an empty chair around the table and pulled out the one next to him for Bobbi.

Daisy looked up and contemplated Bobbi for a second before a grin split her face. “You were way better than this idiot,” she said, hooking her thumb in Hunter’s direction.

“Hey!” Hunter protested.

“Dude, your American accent is the worst,” Daisy replied, returning to her laptop.

“Told you,” Bobbi said smugly, sitting down.

“My American accent is fantastic, thank you.”

“It’s really not,” Jemma observed, peering into the oven. The whole kitchen smelled of spices and roasting vegetables.

Fitz laughed. “Better than his Scottish one.” 

“That was a brilliant bit, and don’t you forget it,” Hunter said. “One of the tellers asked for my number.” He draped his arm around Bobbi’s shoulders, his eyes wide and innocent, and completely belying every word coming out of his mouth. “Not that I called her.” 

“Funny, because I remember you asked for hers and it turned out to be a fake,” Fitz said.

“That’s not what happened!” Hunter exclaimed.

“No, I’m fairly sure that’s exactly what happened,” Jemma said.

“You’re all terrible friends.” Hunter slumped back in his chair, scowling, but Bobbi was stuck on the mention of a teller. And what Hunter had said earlier about not getting gift cards.

“Oh, did you hear?” Jemma said excitedly, pulling something from the oven and setting it on the stovetop.

“Hear what?” Bobbi asked.

Jemma peered over her shoulder, beaming. “Our loan application was approved. We’re getting bees!”

“Loan application?” Bobbi repeated blankly.

“It’s going to be wonderful,” Jemma said, opening a cabinet and taking down several plates. Fitz scrambled up to help and she passed him the dishes, leaning in to give him a kiss. “Imagine the honey!”

“And all the bees,” Hunter grumbled under his breath, but he was smiling.

“You guys…took out a loan today?” Bobbi said.

“Just a small one. My garden’s gotten a bit out of hand this year,” Jemma admitted, picking up a steaming dish and setting it in the middle of the table. “So I thought I’d try canning the excess and seeing if I could sell it, along with the honey. I might do a bit of baking as well. The courgettes are coming in practically faster than I can pick them.”

“Zucchini,” Daisy corrected.

“That’s a ridiculous name,” Jemma said.

“Good luck selling your ‘courgette’ muffins to a bunch of people who’ll have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, feel free not to eat my courgette lasagna.”

“Ooh, is it ready?” Daisy looked up from her laptop and then closed the lid with a snap. “It smells amazing.”

“So, this morning, at the bank-” Bobbi began. Jemma and Fitz exchanged glances and Daisy dropped her eyes to the table.

Hunter set a plate of steaming vegetables and sauce in front of Bobbi. “Later,” he murmured. “Trust me, Bob.”

There was a long silence as Bobbi stared at Hunter, then at the others in the room. She took a deep breath, her shoulders tight with apprehension. “Alright.”

Everyone seemed to relax, and a moment later they were chattering away again. Bobbi almost didn’t want the meal to end. Awareness, of how close she might be to cracking open her case, and of the way Hunter’s hand was creeping up her thigh, buzzed under her skin. Choosing one would mean losing the other, there was no way around it.

Bobbi shoved that thought away and threaded her fingers through Hunter’s before he could wiggle them up her shorts under the kitchen table. He sighed sadly, and she offered him a bite of lasagna as a consolation. She was rewarded with his crooked smile and was trying to avoid a sauce-smeared kiss when Daisy laughed, drawing their attention.

“What?” Hunter said, his fingers drawing circles on the inside of Bobbi’s thigh.

“Nothing,” Daisy shook her head. “It’s just…I forgot what a freak you are when you’re happy.” She smiled at Bobbi. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Bobbi struggled to keep the smile on her face. “Me too.”

***

Bobbi picked up the framed photo on Hunter’s dresser and frowned at it like it could tell her everything she wanted to know.

After they’d eaten, Hunter had put off his explanation by getting into an argument with Fitz about one of his surfboards, which had led to Bobbi learning more than she ever needed to know about the nuances that went into making a board. She’d eventually gone to wash the salt and bus fumes out of her hair, hoping Hunter would be ready to talk when she was done, only to have him claim the bathroom as soon as she’d emerged. Daisy, Fitz, and Jemma had been talking quietly in the living room, but Bobbi hadn’t been able to hear what they were saying from the hallway and they’d stopped as soon as she’d make herself known.

All the secrecy was driving Bobbi up the wall.

“Hey,” Hunter said, making Bobbi jump.

She guiltily set down the photo and stuck her hands in the back pockets of her shorts as he came into the room, toweling his hair dry.

Hunter dropped the towel on the floor and took a step towards her, reaching out to touch the top of the photo frame. He was wearing a pair of shorts, his chest bare and a faint frown on his face. Bobbi’s gaze drifted down his torso. God help her, just looking at him was enough to send her pulse racing. “Want to head to the beach?” he asked.

“Now?” Bobbi asked, her eyes snapping back to his face in surprise.

“There’s a bonfire tonight,” he said, shrugging one shoulder.

“Because my last one was such a success,” Bobbi said wryly.

His lips curled up slightly. “I certainly enjoyed it.” He grasped her hand and slid a thumb over her knuckles.

“Hunter,” Bobbi said, exasperated. “Please, what-”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I just want to get it right.” He glanced in the direction of the photo again. “Dais said she mentioned Izzy to you, before.”

The confirmation of the woman in photograph’s identity made Bobbi’s stomach flip, even though she was expecting it. “She did,” Bobbi confirmed, biting her lip to keep from blurting out a million questions.

Hunter nudged the door shut behind him and pulled open a dresser drawer. Much to Bobbi’s disappointment, he grabbed a shirt and tugged it over his head. “She was a friend of mine. Probably my best friend. Met her when I first came out here to experience the famous California surf. At a bonfire, actually.”

He sank down to sit on the bed and, after a moment, Bobbi hesitantly sat beside him.

“She was one of kind, Izzy.” A smile ghosted across Hunter’s face. “Elected herself to be the obnoxious big sister I never asked for. She’d put me in my place but she always had my back, you know?” He leaned into Bobbi, his shoulder solid and warm where it pressed against hers. “She would have liked you.”

Guilt clawed its way up Bobbi’s throat, but Hunter didn’t seem to expect her to answer.

“It happened quick, even though it felt like forever.” Hunter drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “She had cancer—metatastic melanoma—from all that time out in the sun.”

“I’m sorry,” Bobbi said automatically.

“So was everyone else, but there was nothing they could do except slow it down. We spent a lot of time at the hospital, Izzy and me. Daisy too. That’s where we met Fitz and Jemma.”

Bobbi stiffened. “What?” 

Hunter flopped back on the bed and pulled her down with him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “You wouldn’t know it now,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, “but Fitz was sick as hell. They’d both been working for some huge company and messing with pesticides before he was diagnosed. He had something different than Izzy, more treatable, but it’s why Jemma’s so mental about food.” He huffed a quiet laugh, stirring Bobbi’s hair. “Half the time I think she just bullied the cancer right out of him.”

They could hear laughter coming from the living room and Bobbi had a hard time drawing enough air into her lungs.

“After Izzy passed,” Hunter said. “The only thing we had left of her was the bloody bills. They were like a sick joke. She was dead, so why the fuck were we still paying for her useless treatments?”

Bobbi waited, but Hunter seemed to be finished for the moment. His chest rose and fell under her cheek, and his breath hitched. Bobbi could feel the tension radiating from his body and the only thing she wanted to do was to soothe it away. She curled her fingers into Hunter’s t-shirt and pushed away the little voice reminding her she had a job to do. “That must have been horrible,” she said quietly.

Hunter snorted. “We didn’t have it nearly as bad as Fitz and Jemma. She’d insisted on the best and she was drowning in debt, trying to keep him from finding out how bad it was. She broke down one night and told Daisy everything.” His fingers trailed through Bobbi’s hair. “All I could think was that Izzy would have done whatever it took to help, so we came up with a plan.”

Bobbi tensed, almost wanting to stop him so she never had to know. It felt so wrong, like she’d pried open a window into a private universe she had no right to see. Maybe she could tell Coulson she’d failed. Maybe…

“The first time it was just me and Dais,” Hunter said. “I ended up getting tossed out on my ear by the security guard and had to leg it before the cops showed up, but it was enough of a distraction to let Daisy get her program into one of their computers.”

Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut and tried to keep her breathing even as her stomach twisted. Shit. Shit. Shit. This wasn’t happening. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want it to be them, or for Hunter to be involved at all.

“And then,” Hunter whispered, his lips against her temple. “We fixed it.”

Bobbi frowned. “Fixed what?”

He rolled so he was half on top of her, gazing down, his eyes steady on hers. “Everything. Izzy’s bills, Fitz’s. Dais even wiped out Jemma’s loans. It went perfectly. It was so easy we almost couldn’t believe it.”

Bobbi blinked up at him, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw and trying to ignore the growing chasm in her heart. “What, taking someone else’s money?”

Hunter nipped at her chin, his hand tracing along the hem of her shirt before slipping under it to caress her bare skin. “It’s all digital nowadays, isn’t it?” Hunter said, trailing kisses down her throat. “The money, I mean. Daisy just made it look like we’d paid up, and that was that.”

He lifted his head, searching her face, and Bobbi moved to kiss the underside of his jaw, worried he’d somehow know the true reason for the conflict in her eyes.

Hunter’s fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her shorts. “Thought Jemma was going turn us all in at first, she was so panicked over what we’d done, but no one noticed a damn thing. The bills stopped coming, Fitz went into remission, and we were all just a little freer than we’d been before.”

“So, what was today?” Bobbi forced herself to ask softly. Her hands fisted into Hunter’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head so she could slide her hands over his chest, trying to memorize every dip and curve. He’d unbuttoned her shorts and her hips bucked impatiently as his fingers slid over her clit.

“Today,” Hunter murmured, tugging on her shorts and moving down to kiss her stomach, the rough scratch of his unshaven chin making her muscles quiver. “Fitz and Jem were awarded a much larger loan they’d initially asked for, which will be conveniently paid off in short order, and then we’ll spread the wealth to the people who really need it.” 

“Like you guys?” Bobbi asked. Hunter was working her shorts and underwear off her legs while Bobbi stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears. Her hips lifted, straining towards his hands as he gently pushed her knees apart. He slipped off the bed, kneeling between her legs and sucking a bruise on her inner thigh while his fingers explored her pussy. She was already wet, making it easy for him to slip a finger inside of her, and she almost hated her body for wanting this man so much. Only it wasn’t just her body.

Hunter pulled back and kissed the tender spot on her thigh. “We don’t need much,” he murmured, hands gliding up her legs. She shivered in anticipation. “Dais has a whole list of charity places that need a little boost to keep them going. We’re just doing what those greedy bastards should have in the first place.”

“You can’t-” Bobbi gasped, her hand gripping the blanket under her as Hunter’s tongue found her center. The scrape of his beard against her sensitive skin teetered on the edge of perfection and too much stimulation. “You can’t just take people’s money,” she managed.

Hunter hummed, his lips closing around her clit as a second finger pushed inside her, stretching her just enough to make her crave more. She reached down, knowing she should push him away, but instead she cradled the back of his head and urged him on. She arched up against his mouth and a moan escaped her throat as he twisted his fingers.

He made a satisfied noise and sucked harder, pumping his fingers. Her orgasm was roiling just below the surface, thrumming in her belly and waiting to break free. “Lance, please,” Bobbi breathed.

He groaned and pushed another finger inside like he could read her mind. She wanted to go back to this morning and demand he stay in bed with her for hours to keep him and the others from going to the bank and putting on their elaborate act. She wanted to rewind the last six months and not piece together the anomalies in the banks’ accounting records at all, tracing the pattern of withdrawals and eagerly bringing it up every chance she got.

Except then she wouldn’t be here, writhing under the combined attention of Lance’s mouth and hands while he drove her to the brink and finally, _finally_ over the edge.

Bobbi’s heart was pounding in her ears as her climax hit, her legs trembling and her eyes sliding shut while pleasure sang through her veins. She slumped back against the bed, her limbs loose and relaxed, while Hunter trailed soft, lazy kisses along her hip and up her stomach. She helped him pull her shirt off, followed quickly by her bra, and let out a satisfied sigh as his mouth found her breasts. Need began to swell inside her once more.

“If they don’t notice it’s gone,” he rumbled, his teeth scraping against her aching nipple, “Why should it matter?”  

A thousand reasons flitted through her mind, starting with ‘it’s fucking illegal’ and running all the way through ‘who the hell died and left you in charge’ but the sound of a condom being opened derailed any desire to start an argument. Bobbi managed to open her eyes, running her foot along Hunter’s calf as he braced one knee on the bed and rolled the condom on. “You’re an idiot,” she said softly, reaching up to cradle his face.

Hunter grinned down at her, positioning himself at her entrance and steadily pushing inside. Her body opened easily, welcoming him. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Bobbi’s heart lurched in her chest and she clamped her lips together to keep from answering. Yanking him down, she curled a leg around his hip as he filled her and kissed him fiercely, tasting herself on his tongue.

It didn’t matter how she felt about him or why he’d taken the money. None of it mattered. He’d find out about her lies soon enough and there was nothing she could do to change that.


	7. Pretend That We're Dead

The garden was dark, and a few stars were still visible, stubbornly shining despite the lightening sky. Bobbi clutched the mug of green tea she’d managed to make without waking anyone and pulled Hunter’s hoodie a little tighter around herself. She should have swapped out her shorts for jeans, but she hadn’t really been planning on sitting on the back stoop waiting for the sun to rise this morning.

She’d barely slept last night, lying next to Hunter in the dark, the weight of his arm alternating between constraining and comforting. She was still missing a few pieces of the puzzle—the drug connection remained a complete mystery, for one—but there was no real reason to drag this out any longer. She had more than enough for a warrant, and she couldn’t let something as ridiculous as emotions hold her back. Feelings didn’t close cases; facts were what mattered.

Bobbi lowered her head, inhaling the steam of her tea before taking a sip. Fact one: Hunter had admitted to being involved in the bank heists. Fact two: Daisy was obviously a hell of a lot smarter than her spotty school and foster care records indicated. Fact three: Now that Bobbi knew what to look for, she could probably trace a lot more of the missing money. It shouldn’t matter that the trail would lead to a bunch of non-profits who couldn’t pay it back. Her job wasn’t to decide what was fair. She was just supposed to uphold the law.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Bobbi slumped back against the door and closed her eyes, taking another sip of tea and running through all the evidence again before giving up. No matter how she approached this, it was going to be a disaster. She pulled her knees up, hugging them, and inhaled the scent of Hunter embedded deep in the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“Fuck,” she said to the empty yard. A tear leaked out of her eye and she wiped it away, irritated with herself. She’d wanted to prove she was capable and that’s exactly what she’d done. The higher-ups couldn’t ignore her after this.

She hoped.

The door behind her gave way suddenly to empty air and Bobbi squeaked as she tipped back, catching herself just before she hit the ground. Her tea, miraculously, stayed mostly in her mug.

“Shit, sorry,” Hunter whispered, his hand solid and sure on her shoulder. Bobbi swiped at her eyes again, trying to stuff away her doubts and fears. “You’re up early.” He closed the door and settled down on the stoop next to her. He stared out at the dark garden while his leg jiggled nervously.

“Guess I’m getting used to it.” Bobbi reached out, covering his knee with one hand, and felt him immediately relax. He slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her against him.

“Not so bad, is it?” he murmured in her ear. “I could certainly get used to seeing you first thing every morning.”

Bobbi took a sip of tea to cover up the fact that her throat felt too tight to speak.

“Daisy should be up in a few.” Hunter wrapped his hand around hers on the mug, taking a drink and letting out a deep, satisfied sigh before letting her go again. He leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips and Bobbi curled a hand into his shirt to keep him close, reluctant to break it. She felt him smile against her mouth. “You ready to go?”

Releasing him, Bobbi managed to find her voice again. “I can’t.” Hunter’s brow furrowed. “I have a thing…an audition,” Bobbi said, her tongue tripping over the lie. “This morning,” she added, trying not to wince. Shit, she was going to ruin everything if she didn’t get herself under control.

“Do you? That’s great, Bob. If they’ve got any sense at all, they’ll know a good thing when they see it.” The last of the stars were winking out overhead and Hunter stretched his long legs out in front of him, leaning back against the door. “There’s a competition next month in Tahiti. Dais and I are going, if you think you can get away.” 

Bobbi turned to look at him in surprise, barely managing to swallow the words of acceptance on the tip of her tongue. “Tahiti, huh? Sounds incredible. I’ll let you know.”

“Don’t worry about the cost.” Hunter’s hand trailed lazily up and down her spine. “It’d be a thanks for your help yesterday.” He flashed her his crooked smile. “Plus, I’ll take any excuse to watch you strut around in a bikini.”

“I do not _strut_.”

“Prance?”

“Watch it, mister.”

“Oh, I know,” Hunter said, clearly enjoying himself. “Frolic.”

Bobbi set her tea down before elbowing him in the ribs. He responded by wrapping his arms around her, trying unsuccessfully to keep her from doing it again, then laughing as she broke his hold and grabbed his wrists, pinning them over his head against the door. Hunter smirked, his face just inches away, and made no move to escape. Bobbi’s chest heaved as she caught her breath. “Just for that, maybe I won’t bring a bikini.”

Hunter’s eyes lit up. “Suppose that’s one way to take out the competitors.”

“Shut up,” she said, unable to hide her smile. She closed the distance between them, her lips barely grazing his. “Or I’ll make you.”

Hunter groaned, surging up against her and slamming their mouths together. Bobbi’s arms ended up around his neck and Hunter was in the middle of dragging her into his lap when they lost their balance and tipped over, ending up sprawled on the floor of the living room.

“Seriously?” Daisy asked, standing over them and staring down in amusement. “Did you forget you have a room?”

“It was Hunter’s fault,” Bobbi blurted out.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Hey!” Hunter protested. “I mean, yes, fine, it was mostly mine, but Bob was helping.”

Daisy held up a hand. “Please, I am begging you, do not elaborate. Ready to go?”

Hunter heaved a sigh. “I suppose.” Bobbi started to get up, but Hunter pulled her back down, giving her a swift kiss. “Good luck today, and don’t forget: Tahiti.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, are you coming?” Daisy sounded more enthusiastic than Bobbi expected.

Looking up, Bobbi tried to smile. “If I can,” she hedged.

“Awesome.”

“What about Samoa?” Hunter asked, gathering most of Bobbi’s hair in one fist and tugging gently, directing her attention back to him.

“What about it?” Bobbi said.

“Ever wanted to go there? Surf’s amazing.”

Bobbi gazed down at Hunter, hating that this was the last time she’d ever see him like this: carefree and happy, watching her with a softness in his eyes that made her insides ache. “Sure.”

Daisy snorted. “Yeah, ok, you two are making me sick. Come on, the water’s waiting.” 

***

Bobbi slid into the booth across from Coulson almost forty minutes late, her shirt sticking to her back and sweat pooling in her cleavage. She longed for the smell of salt water instead of exhaust. “Sorry, sorry, the bus got stuck in traffic.”

Coulson eyed her sympathetically and pushed a plate in her direction. “Thought you might need this.”

Bobbi gasped, grabbing the edge of the plate and dragging it closer. “Marry me,” she said reverently.

“Well, that’s a little unexpected. I’m going to have to run it past the wife and get back to you.”

Bobbi grabbed a nearby fork. “I was talking to the pie.”

Coulson lifted a hand, gesturing to the waitress. “Can you get my friend a coffee?”

“Bless you,” Bobbi said around a mouth full of peaches. “And do not tell May I said that, either. Half her records still stand at the academy. When she decided to leave for the private sector I swear all the instructors went into mourning.”

Coulson smiled. “Yeah, she’s something else.”

“She should have been promoted to Assistant Director.”

“I don’t disagree,” Coulson said mildly.

Bobbi took another bite of pie, studying the man across the table while the waitress poured her a cup of coffee. Coulson had given his whole life to the Bureau and it had repaid him by shuffling him through departments until he’d ended up in charge of one by default of seniority. His office, which he tended to avoid at all costs, had no window and it was too hot in the winter and too cold in the summer. Why he stubbornly hung on when he was eligible to retire, she had no idea.

“Discovered something interesting yesterday,” Coulson said, leaning back against the booth.

Bobbi froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. Shit. She’d been rehearsing her speech the whole way over here, but she still wasn’t sure how to confess she might have accidentally helped rob a bank and hadn’t even realized it until it was over.  

“What’s that?” she asked, stalling for time.

“I was going through this week’s reported ODs, found one that looked interesting.” Coulson tossed a file folder onto the table and Bobbi stopped its slide, flipping it open curiously. The slack face of a young man, his eyes partially open but empty, staring at nothing, looked up at her. Bobbi frowned, and something pinged in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite place him.

She went through the photos, slowly examining each one, but there was nothing remarkable about the scene. Except…she squinted at one of the images, angling it toward the window like she could somehow light the dark corner it depicted. “What is that?”

“In the corner?” Coulson sipped his coffee, his expression unchanged. “Half a surfboard.” Bobbi’s head snapped up. “I’ve asked them to send it to us if it’s still there. It wasn’t collected at the time. Pretty open and shut case.”

Bobbi shuffled through the papers, looking for the police report. The kid’s face stared up at her and she wracked her brain, trying to figure out why he looked familiar. “Fentanyl?” she asked.

“You got it,” Coulson confirmed.

“Who was he?” she said, finally finding the report that included the victim’s driver’s license photo.

“No one I recognized.”

Bobbi stared down at the piece of paper in her hand, unblinking. “I do,” she breathed. Relief began to trickle down her spine. She picked up the photo again and the last few pieces she’d been missing began to fall into place. The broken surfboard, the vague recognition niggling at her, Kara’s ridiculously expensive sunglasses and all of Ward’s insinuations about going places.

Coulson reached across the table and snagged the paper out of her hand. “Keith Walker? You know him?”

Bobbi shook her head. “I’ve seen him before, but not with Hunter.  He was talking to Ward.”

“Bobbi.” Coulson frowned. “We already eliminated Ward as a suspect.”

“For the bank heists,” Bobbi acknowledged, “but what if they’re two separate cases after all?”

Coulson’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does if they’re both surfers,” Bobbi said absently, taking the report back and checking out the details. She winced at how young Keith had been and was gratified to see the cops on scene had the presence of mind to search for and confiscate the rest of the Fentanyl in Keith’s apartment. It was a lot more than most people had on hand for personal use. The fact that a kid who surfed all day was living on his own in Santa Monica should have raised some eyebrows, but clearly, he’d managed to fly under the radar.

Coulson leaned back in the booth and considered her. “Alright, walk me through it.”

“We’ve got one or more people taking money out of the country, and drugs coming in, but what if it’s just the method that’s similar? A surfer on the circuit, especially one that’s got a sponsor, is going to travel with a hell of a lot of gear, and multiple boards. They’ll also have plenty of downtime in exotic locales, and if they’re hurting for cash, they might be looking for a quick way to make some.”

“Why would Ward be hurting for cash?”

Biting her lip, Bobbi shuffled through the crime scene photos again. The kid had surf posters papering his wall, and at least one was of Ward. Goddammit, she really hated that guy. She drew in a breath and went over it all again in her head, trying to make sure it made sense. “What if his parents aren’t supporting him like we thought? He’s sponsored now, so he’s probably making enough to keep him in surf gear, but not enough for a flashy new truck and a girlfriend with expensive taste. Were the drugs bagged and ready for sale?”

“No, original packaging, I’ve already requested a rush on fingerprints and testing.”

Bobbi nodded. “Good.” She tapped the dark corner. “I bet they were in the broken board. I saw Keith carrying one the other day, talking to Ward in the parking lot, and assumed he’d just dinged his, but maybe the board was one of Ward’s.”

Coulson lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t think TSA would have noticed that?” Bobbi slanted a look at him and Coulson shrugged. “Yeah, I know. The system isn’t perfect, but the courts are going to ask.”

“If we can get this from Keith’s apartment we can see who might have made it, maybe trace it back to the original owner. Fitz makes boards, he might recognize the material or the shape and give us something to go on.”

“You really have been immersing yourself in this surf stuff.” Coulson sounded impressed. “Still, that’s a lot of guesswork.”

“I’ve been practically joined at the hip with Hunter over the last few days, and I’m telling you, he never talked to this kid.” Bobbi held up Keith’s picture. “But Ward did. Twice.” She made a face. “Plus, he’s a total asshole.”

Chuckling, Coulson gathered up Keith’s file and straightened the paperwork before tucking it away. “You know if that was a crime…”

“We’d never stop making arrests.” Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know, but I have a good feeling on this one.”

“I’ll go make a few calls, see if I can’t pull in some favors and move things along. If it is Ward, he’s new at this. He’ll have made a mistake somewhere.”

“Thanks, Coulson.”

“Sure.” He watched her expectantly over the table. “Anything else you noticed while you’ve been spending all this time with Hunter?”

Bobbi willed herself not to drop her gaze, a sure sign of guilt. Flashes of the commotion in the bank she’d helped create ran through her mind, clashing with Hunter’s confession of what he and the others did with the money. Keith’s death wasn’t on Hunter, though, Bobbi was sure of that now, and there were far worse things than the banks losing out on a little profit. “Um, nothing so far.”

She continued to meet Coulson’s gaze steadily, her mouth going dry as he stared back. She’d have to tell him what had happened at some point, but she wasn’t ready just yet. All she wanted to do was go back home and bury her face in the crook of Hunter’s neck while he helped her forget Keith’s empty eyes. Ward had been right under her nose, but she’d missed the signs and some kid had paid the ultimate price.

“Ok. Good work, Bobbi.” Coulson stood up and dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table. “Keep me posted.”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled, focusing on what remained of her pie and forcing herself to take another bite. Her stomach felt like it was filled with lead. She’d just lied to her fellow agent. That was very, very bad, but the thought of Hunter learning that she’d lied to him was somehow worse.

The moment she told him who she really was, their morning surf sessions, his crooked smile and ridiculous sense of humor would be gone in the blink of an eye. All over a bunch of illicit digital financial transactions that had gone unnoticed for years and probably hadn’t hurt a soul.

“More coffee, hun?” the waitress asked.

Bobbi’s stomach roiled. “Actually, do you have any green tea?”

***

The house was oddly quiet when Bobbi got back that afternoon.

The blue van wasn’t parked at the curb, the television was off, and no one was in the kitchen, even though the front door had been open. It looked like someone had started to sort through the books in the living room, leaving a few haphazard stacks on the floor by the bookcase.

“Hello?” Bobbi called, kicking off her sandals. No one answered.

Dropping her bag on the couch, she hoped there was leftover lasagna in the fridge for dinner and wandered down the hall. The door to Jemma and Fitz’s room was closed, and Daisy’s was too, but Hunter’s was open a crack and the lamp was on. Something made her hesitate, and she almost wished she was carrying her gun, but she shook off her sudden fear, feeling ridiculous. She was safe here.

“Hunter?” Bobbi pushed the door open and stopped when she spotted him sitting on the edge of the bed. His head was bowed, and he was staring at something in his lap. “Hunter?” she said again, her pulse kicking up a notch. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes hard, and for the first time, Bobbi felt like she was seeing the man who'd been willing to commit multiple felonies for his friends.

“Agent Morse,” he bit out.


	8. High and Dry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: This chapter's got some light bondage happening.

Bobbi felt like she’d been punched in the gut.

She frantically searched for a way to explain before squeezing her eyes shut. Reaching out to grasp the doorframe, she steadied herself and opened her eyes again. Nothing had changed. She was still standing just inside Hunter’s room, and he was still looking at her like he didn’t know her at all.

To be fair, he kind of didn’t. “I can explain.”

“Can you, Barbara?” Hunter said.

She flinched. “Don’t call me that.”

He tossed something on the floor at her feet and her badge glinted in the dim lighting. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” He turned something over thoughtfully in his hands, and she belatedly realized he was holding her gun. Her cuffs were on the bed next to him and her duffle bag was on the floor at his feet. She’d gotten careless, her things scattered around his room like she actually belonged there. Of course he would have noticed her bag was heavier than it should be.

Bobbi took a breath and tried to collect her thoughts. “Only my mother calls me that,” she replied,

Hunter snorted. “Oh, sure, this the mother you told me about, or the real one?”

Letting out a frustrated huff, Bobbi glared at him. “They’re one and the same, Hunter, and everyone else calls me Bobbi. I didn’t lie about that.”

“Just about the rest, then,” Hunter said, his voice low as he stood up from the bed. “Tell me, _Barbara_ , what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“Hunter.” Bobbi stopped, taking in the stiff set of his shoulders and the way he was avoiding her eyes. He wasn’t even trying to listen. “Lance,” she tried again, softening her tone. “Please, it’s not what you think.”

“Are they here now, waiting outside for me? For all of us?”

“Is who here?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Hunter said, raising the gun slightly. Bobbi could see the barrel wavering even though it was pointed more at the dresser than her.

Bobbi lifted her hands in a show of contrition. “No one’s here, Hunter, it’s just me and you. Where are the others?”

The laugh Hunter let out was brittle. “As if I’d tell you. I can’t believe I…I fucking trusted you, Bobbi, or whatever the hell your name is!” He waved the gun around mindlessly and Bobbi winced, edging a little further into the room. She definitely wasn’t going to be getting that promotion. Hell, she’d be lucky not to get fired, but that was something to worry about later.

“Hunter, I promise, you can still trust me.”

“Stop lying,” Hunter snarled.

“I’m not lying, I swear. Would you put the gun down so we can talk, please?” Her voice was surprisingly even considering she’d never wanted to have this conversation with Hunter. Especially not like this.

“Oh, hell no.”

Bobbi chewed on her lower lip for a second before deciding she was really low on options. “You can cuff me.”

“What?” A hint of the Hunter she knew flashed across his face.

“You heard me,” she said, a tiny bubble of hope rising inside of her. She put her hands on her hips. “I need you to stop waving that damn thing around and listen. Just put me in cuffs and then we can calmly discuss this.”

There was a moment of silence before Hunter answered. “You know, I really imagined this topic of conversation coming up in a completely different context.”

Bobbi almost smiled. “I’m sure you did, but first we need to talk about…everything.” She gestured at her FBI credentials, still on the floor at her feet.

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “You can stop trying to stall. Dais, Jem, and Fitz are long gone.”

“Would you quit it? I’m not stalling and no one’s waiting outside. It’s not like you’re on the damn Most Wanted list.” Hunter’s lower lip began to sneak out and Bobbi sighed in exasperation, holding out her hand. “Cuffs, Hunter.”

“Hang on.” Hunter waved at Bobbi to back up a couple of steps while he moved to the other side of the bed and tossed the cuffs on a pillow before gesturing at the headboard.

“Are you serious?”

“You’d rather I cuff you to the clothes rail in the closet?” Hunter gestured impatiently at the bed with the gun. _Her_ gun.

Bobbi sighed. “This is ridiculous, you know.”

“Says the FBI agent who infiltrated my goddamn life,” Hunter retorted.

“It wasn’t like that,” Bobbi said quietly, sitting down on the bed and locking one cuff around her wrist. “I didn’t mean…that wasn’t the plan, Hunter.” She scooted until her back was against the headboard—which she knew, unfortunately, was sturdier than it looked—and looped the cuffs around the top of it. The ratcheting metal was loud in the quiet room as she closed the second cuff around her other wrist with her arms over her head. Hunter watched her like a hawk, and even though Bobbi managed to keep the cuffs looser than necessary, there wasn’t as much slack as she’d been hoping for.

“All the way, Bob,” Hunter said. He’d moved to lean against the dresser, the gun dangling at his side, and he was watching her in a way that made heat gather between her legs.

She tamped down on her idiotic libido, which she blamed entirely for getting her into this situation in the first place, and barely resisted sticking her tongue out at him before tightening the cuffs another couple of notches. Shit. Hopefully, he’d found her cuff key, too. “There, you happy?” She yanked against her bonds in emphasis, wincing as the metal bit into her wrists.

“I really want to say yes,” Hunter said, laying the gun on the dresser. “But unfortunately, in my dreams, this scenario at no point involved you being a fucking cop.” He opened his dresser drawers one after the other like he was checking them. For the first time, Bobbi noticed Izzy’s photo was gone. A bulging duffle bag sat by the closet. He wasn’t planning on listening to her at all, he was just conveniently getting her out of the way. The idea that he’d been planning to leave without saying goodbye hurt more than she’d expected.

“This wasn’t just about the bank heists, I was looking into the drug connection,” Bobbi blurted out.

Hunter turned around, frowning. “What drug connection?”

His obvious bewilderment wiped away the last vestiges of Bobbi’s worry that he might somehow be involved, no matter what she’d told Coulson. “Someone’s been flooding the local market periodically with Fentanyl and we thought it had something to do with the money disappearing from the banks. The pattern was roughly the same, the timing was similar, we really thought it was tied together. That’s why I was here, why I…” Bobbi stopped, the words sticking in her throat as Hunter glared. 

“Why you lied through your teeth about everything? Bob, come on, you can’t think after we…after everything I told you, that any of us would ever touch that shit.” He paused, searching her face. “You don’t, do you?”

She met his eyes squarely. “I wouldn’t have come back if I thought that, Hunter. I know it wasn’t you.”

His shoulders slumped. “Good.” His expression hardened again. “Wait, why did you come back?”

Biting her lip, Bobbi ran through a list of flimsy reasons to return to a known criminal’s home, alone, before admitted defeat. “I just wanted to see you.”

Hunter scowled at her. “You think I know who the dealer is, don’t you?”

“I know who he is. I’m not here to interrogate you.”

“Who is it?”

Bobbi shifted uncomfortably, torn between wanting to share and not blowing her case. She didn’t think Hunter would warn Ward, but she also didn’t think it would look good for Ward to be arrested with a freshly-broken nose. Or worse. “I don’t think you’ll be surprised.”

“Bloody Ward,” Hunter growled, glancing toward the hall.

“Hey.” Bobbi yanked on the cuffs, frustrated, and wiggled a foot in Hunter’s direction, trying to get his attention. “Don’t. We’ll get him. You’ve got other things to worry about. Bank fraud is still a crime, you know.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “You’re wearing a wire, aren’t you?”

“Wearing a-” Bobbi snorted. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows.”

“Well, I’m not confessing a damn thing, so all your friends who are listening in can bugger off.”

“Hunter, I’m not wearing a wire! I came back because I was hoping for a chance to explain things, ok? I didn’t want…I care about you. And everyone else,” she added quickly. “I haven’t told anyone what happened at the bank yesterday.”

“Prove it.” He crossed his arms.

“Um, well, there’s not a team of federal agents knocking down your door right now. That’s pretty telling.”

Hunter grimaced. “No, the wire thing.”

Sighing, Bobbi rattled her handcuffs against the headboard. “I’m kinda stuck at the moment, but feel free to check.”

Hunter’s eyes trailed down her body and she felt herself flush despite having woken up naked with him just this morning. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ, Bob, you’re something else, you know that? Why the hell couldn’t you really have been just a shite actress?”

“Hey!” Bobbi said, insulted.

“Sorry.” Hunter raised his voice. “She’s a great fucking actress,” he announced loudly. “Congratulations. You must be so proud.”

“Hunter.” Bobbi waited until he met her gaze. “I wasn’t acting, not with you.” 

Hunter contemplated her for a long moment before he took a step towards the bed. “Don’t move, alright?”

“Fine.” Bobbi leaned back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling, willing her nipples to stop being so damn obvious about how much she didn’t hate this. The bed dipped under Hunter’s weight and he straddled her thighs. His hands skimmed over her chest in a way that told her he hadn’t missed her reaction either.

She wiggled as he tugged up the hem of her shirt and desperately wished for the use of her hands. The pads of his fingers trailed up her stomach, his touch so light it almost tickled. “Hold still,” he murmured again, pushing her shirt up to expose her bra, his face the picture of concentration.

His fingertips glided along the underside of her breasts and Bobbi bit back a whimper of need. She arched up to give him access to her back, making contact with the erection straining the front of his shorts. “See, no wire,” she breathed. “Maybe you could unlock the cuffs?”

“So you can turn me over to your waiting FBI buddies? I don’t think so.”

“Hunter,” Bobbi said, exasperated. “I told you, they don’t know. What the hell would I even say? ‘Hey, I accidentally helped rob a bank yesterday, whoops’! They’re going to be furious with me for not reporting everything before you skip town.”

Hunter sat back, leaving her shirt bunched up under her arms. His eyes were shadowed in the dim light and she couldn’t read his expression. He reached up with one hand and brushed her hair back, the touch surprisingly gentle. “Technically, we haven’t robbed the bank yet,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to make me feel better.”

“I wasn’t,” Hunter said. He settled his hands near her waist, his thumbs stroking along her hipbones.  “But I can if you’d like me to.”

Something sparked down low in Bobbi’s stomach as she tried to focus. “Did you miss the skip town part?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be helping me evade the law, Bob.” He shifted his weight, bringing his cock back into contact with her, and Bobbi tried not to groan out loud.

“I am not helping!” she hissed, lifting her hips and grinding against him. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

“I’m not a complete idiot.”

“You’re being one right now. Seriously, you need to…” She paused, suddenly realizing what was happening. “You’re stalling to give the others a chance to get out of town.”

The serious expression Hunter was wearing looked strange on his face. “No matter what happens, it was all my idea, Bob, yeah? Dais, Fitz and Jem, they weren’t involved. It’s all on me.”

“This is exactly the opposite of proving you’re not an idiot, Lance,” Bobbi said, unable to hide the tenderness in her voice. 

“Promise me, Barbara.”

She took a breath and let it out slowly. “No more bank jobs?”

“You’ve had the privilege of seeing our last.”

“Then I promise.”

“What gave us away?” Hunter asked curiously. 

Bobbi flexed her hands, wondering if it was possible for her to even get in any more trouble after this all came out, before deciding to hell with it. “Time zones,” she admitted.

“Time zones?”

“Daisy-” Bobbi stopped. “You,” she amended gently, “were careful not to take too much at one time, so the banks wouldn’t automatically flag the transactions, but a couple of time zone miscalculations sent your withdrawals over the limit. That’s how they caught it.”

“And that was enough for them to send you?”

Bobbi gave him a tiny smile. “Well, I had to beg for a while, and then we made the drug connection. That was enough.”

“You are lovely when you beg,” Hunter murmured.

“It doesn’t happen often.”

“Funny, I can remember several instances.” His fingertips skimmed along the waistband of her shorts, teasing her with a promise she was really hoping he was going to follow through on.

“You’re a special case.”

“Am I?” He gave her his crooked smile while his hands glided along her sides and up her arms, testing the gap between her wrists and the cuffs. “You’re alright like this?”

Slowly, Bobbi nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “You’re also a really terrible criminal.”

“Since I’m not the one not in handcuffs, I beg to differ.” Bracing himself over her, Hunter lowered his head, his lips just barely grazing hers while Bobbi willed herself to stay still, their breath mingling. “We could have been great together, you know.”

Bobbi tilted her head back a fraction, her tongue darting out to taste his lower lip, and grasped the headboard with both hands, keeping the weight off her shackled wrists. “We are,” she whispered.

Hunter made a sound low in his throat just before his mouth crashed into hers and Bobbi nearly cried in relief, kissing him back just as eagerly. One hand kneaded her breast before slipping between her back and the bed to undo her bra, pushing it up to join her shirt. Bobbi let out an annoyed huff and wiggled one leg out from underneath him, wrapping it around his hip so she could direct his erection to rub against her center.

“Always so impatient,” he gasped, nipping at her throat before moving down further and capturing one of her nipples between his teeth. Bobbi didn’t have the breath to protest, and he was right, damn him. It was only a matter of time before the whole story came out, and she wanted Hunter to be long gone by then.

“Please, Lance.” She also just wanted him.

He fumbled with the zipper of her shorts, raising his head to kiss her again and wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her lift up so he could undress her lower half. “Hang on, I’ve got you.”

The fabric of his shirt was rough against her breasts and she pushed her chest against his, letting out a growl. “Shirt, Hunter.”

He moved away, dragging her shorts down her legs and remaining just out of reach as she arched towards him. “I’m almost positive the unrestrained party is supposed to be the one giving orders,” he said, sounding amused.

Bobbi lifted her eyebrows, and as soon as her legs were free she dragged one foot up to press against his crotch, causing him to let out a hiss as he yanked his shirt off. “I haven’t heard one,” she shot back.

“Would you listen?”

“Probably not.”

Hunter let out a laugh and unbuttoned his shorts, rolling to one side as he removed them. Bobbi’s hands tightened around the headboard as he exposed his cock, and she stroked his thigh with her foot, her entire body alight with anticipation. “Need you,” she breathed.

He opened the nightstand and pulled out a condom before moving to kneel between her legs. She watched avidly as he rolled it on, trying to memorize every detail of these last minutes they had left. He slid one hand up her thigh as he finished, slipping two fingers easily inside of her and letting out a low groan.

Urging her to wrap a leg around his waist, he directed his cock to her opening, watching her just as intently. Bobbi held her breath as he slowly pushed inside, stretching her wide, and exhaled as he came to a halt, filling her perfectly. Hunter braced a hand against the headboard and cupped her cheek, his chest rapidly rising and falling. He opened his mouth before seeming to change his mind and closing it again. 

Bobbi tipped her head back, inviting a kiss instead as he began to move, his thrusts steady and deep.

Hunter broke the kiss and dropped his head to her shoulder and she lost herself in the rhythm of his hips, mourning the fact that she couldn’t touch him. Like he could read her mind, he wrapped one hand over hers on the headboard while he held her tight, molding himself against her. The scruff on his chin was rubbing against her throat and she couldn’t stop repeating his name as his movements began to stutter.

He swore under his breath and bit her shoulder as he came, shuddering against her. The muscles in her arms were burning and she whimpered as he began to pull out, lifting her hips in a silent plea. She could feel her body teetering on the edge, reaching for bliss. If he’d just…

“I got you,” he whispered, sitting back. “Sorry, Bob, but Jemma said this shouldn’t hurt much, alright?”

“What?” Bobbi tried to say as something pinched her thigh.

Everything went black. 


	9. Sour Times

Waking up wasn’t usually quite this difficult.

Bobbi’s tongue felt too big for her mouth and she reached up, grimacing as she wiped drool off her cheek. Crap, Hunter was never going to let her live that…Hunter.

Struggling to open her eyes, she flung a hand out, searching for him beside her when she belatedly realized she wasn’t handcuffed anymore.

“What the fuck,” Bobbi mumbled, though it came out as more of a garbled mush of syllables. Okay, she could figure this out. The last thing she remembered was Hunter apologizing and something pinching her leg and…oh, that asshole. He’d knocked her out with something. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this criminal stuff after all.

Bobbi managed to pry one eye open before quickly shutting it again as the room swam and her stomach almost revolted. At least now she knew she was still in Hunter’s room, even if there was no sign of Hunter.

The house was quiet, and the world outside the window was dark, which meant she’d been out at least a couple of hours. Keeping her eyes closed so as not to risk another bout of nausea, Bobbi began cataloging a few more observations. Her shirt and bra were back in place, if not quite situated comfortably, and she was once again wearing her shorts. Bobbi slipped her hand under the waistband and let out a snort when she realized her underwear was missing. Dammit, she’d liked that pair. There was also something warm draped over her, which was a thoughtful gesture by the bastard who’d left her there without so much as a goodbye.

Cautiously, Bobbi attempted to open her eyes again, leaving them at mere slits until her stomach settled before opening them a little wider. The lamp beside the bed was still shining, but Hunter’s duffle was gone, and the door to the bedroom was open far enough for her to see that the rest of the house was dark.

This was so not going to look good in her report.

God, she hoped her hunch about Ward panned out. If she’d managed to screw up both cases she’d be lucky to be reassigned to the records department if she wasn’t brought up on obstruction charges.

A noise from somewhere outside startled her, and Bobbi turned her head toward the window, quickly slamming her eyes shut as her vision began to go fuzzy around the edges. She took a few deep, steadying breaths, listening intently. Was the front door still open? She needed her gun. She’d seen it on the dresser, hopefully along with her badge. She was in enough trouble without losing that, too.

Another, louder noise had her swinging her legs over the edge of the bed as she sat up. She had to stop and concentrate on a spot on the floor until the dizziness passed, tensing as a flashlight beam swept through the room. Fantastic. Just what she needed to cap off her shitty day: confronting some inept burglar while only semi-coherent and going commando. She could kill Hunter, if she thought she was ever going to see him again.

Something twisted in her chest.

Sucking in a breath through her nose, Bobbi pushed herself off the bed and towards the dresser. She managed to take a stumbling step and grab her gun before collapsing on the floor with a thud.

Another flashlight swept through the room, and her heart rate picked up as the sound of a door opening reached her ears. “I’m armed!” she yelled, propping herself up against the dresser and hoping like hell the idiot wasn’t willing to test her aim.

Another door slammed, and Bobbi heard thumping feet entering the living room. “Police!” someone yelled. “Drop your weapon!”

“Oh, fuck,” Bobbi groaned, setting her gun down as several lights accompanied by heavy footsteps came down the hall. She winced at the brightness and lifted her hands. “FBI,” she called, her voice hoarse.

“Police,” a guy corrected.

“No, I’m FBI!”

“Bobbi?” Someone pushed their way to the front of the blinding lightshow, and Bobbi blinked as Coulson’s face came into focus. “What the hell’s going on? Where is he?”

“Gone,” she croaked. “They’re all gone.”

“How long?” he asked urgently.

All the flashlights swinging around the interior of the room were bringing back her vertigo. Bobbi shook her head. “Don’t know. You better look out.”

“What?” Coulson looked around in confusion.

“I’m about to hurl,” Bobbi said, leaning on one hand and pulling her own hair back with the other.

Coulson scrambled away as she brought up the meager contents of her stomach onto the floor, and several of the lights hastily disappeared.

“House is clear, sir,” someone reported.

“Send someone in to take a look at Agent Morse,” Coulson said.

He crouched down in front of Bobbi and retrieved her gun. Her badge was in his other hand. She tried to sit up properly, her dizziness slowly passing. “What happened?” she asked. “Why are you here?”

“I’d like to ask you the same thing.” Coulson’s expression was grim. “Some recent surveillance footage came to our attention, and you’re in it. It doesn’t look good.”

Bobbi swallowed heavily, grimacing at the sour taste in her mouth “The bank?” Coulson nodded. “I can explain.”

More boots came stomping down the hall and Bobbi felt a brief flash of irritation on behalf of Jemma, who’d always insisted on no shoes in the house. A bevy of EMTs crowded into the small room and Bobbi tried to stand. “I’m fine,” she said as some burly guy clipped a pulse monitor onto her finger and her knees almost buckled. “Seriously, I don’t need-” A shiver wracked her as a cool breeze blew down the hall. Both doors must be wide open. Coulson was gone, but a young, uncertain-looking officer was standing in the doorway, his rifle hanging from a strap over his shoulder.

“Sit down, please, ma’am,” another EMT said, draping something around her shoulders and guiding her to the bed.

“Agent Morse,” Bobbi snapped, irritated with their fussing. She sat down, mostly because she didn’t want to fall flat on her face, and clutched the material around her closer. A familiar scent hit her nose and Bobbi looked down to find she was wrapped in one of Hunter’s hoodies. Tears unexpectedly sprang to her eyes. She wiped at her face and grit her teeth as she was peppered with questions.

At some point, they agreed she could leave the room, and Bobbi slipped her arms into the sleeves of the sweatshirt, unwilling to leave it behind. One of the EMTs solicitously offered to get her a gurney and she almost punched him, managing to both get to and stay on her feet for the long walk down the hall and out the front door.

Coulson was waiting for her by the ambulance. She couldn’t read his expression. “You should go to the hospital,” he said.

“I need to talk to you,” Bobbi replied.

“You should go to the hospital,” Coulson repeated like he hadn’t heard her. Bobbi hesitated as he glanced over his shoulder. An FBI forensic truck was pulling up. “Go, Bobbi,” he said quietly.

She stuck her hands in the pockets of her shorts, guilt creeping over her, and her fingers curled around a piece of paper. She clutched it tightly. Maybe Hunter hadn’t left without a goodbye after all. “Alright.”

The last thing she saw as they drove away were agents smashing open all of Fitz’s carefully-designed surfboards, lit by the strobing lights of a half-dozen emergency vehicles.

***

Bobbi stumbled into her apartment, dead on her feet. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and she had to fight the urge to go down to the beach to see if Hunter was there, sitting in the water with his face tilted up toward the lightening sky.

Hunter was long gone.

The hospital had taken what Bobbi was sure was an illegal amount of blood to run their tests, and, after an excruciatingly long wait to be released, here she was without any orange juice in the house. Or much of anything in the way of sustenance, really. Opening the fridge, she wrinkled her nose at the moldering Thai takeout she’d forgotten to throw out and retrieved a beer instead. Technically, it was food, and she was just going to bed anyway.

Coulson had shown up at the hospital long enough to let her know she was to report to headquarters for a debriefing at 3 pm sharp. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

Bobbi kicked off her shoes as she walked down the narrow hall to her minuscule bathroom, shedding clothes on the way. Her apartment was too quiet, too empty. She missed the smell of Jemma’s cooking and the sound of Daisy’s laugh. She missed Fitz’s sly sense of humor and, damn it, she missed Lance. Taking off the sweatshirt, she left it draped over the end of her bed, Hunter’s note tucked safely in the pocket.

It was barely even a note, she’d realized once she’d finally had a chance to read it. She’d locked herself in the fluorescent-lit bathroom at the hospital and avoided her haggard reflection in the mirror only to find a few words hastily scrawled on a piece of paper. _Sorry it had to end._ He hadn’t signed it or even addressed it to her, but she knew he’d left it for her to find. She just had no idea what it meant. Was he angry at her for putting an end to the heists? Or was he talking about her, about them? Had he been planning to add _‘like this’_ but run out of time?

Ugh. It was just like him to leave her an infuriating message she couldn’t decipher.

The water warmed up quickly, and Bobbi stepped into the shower, bringing her beer with her. All of her muscles were sore. Whatever Hunter had given her packed a punch. Bobbi rolled one shoulder, frowning, and looked down to find a purpling bruise where Hunter had bitten her. It was the only proof she had of their time together, besides the future reams of paperwork waiting for her. She sighed and rubbed a thumb over the mark before taking a swig of her beer.

Goddammit, she should not be this nostalgic over a man—a _criminal_ —who’d not only deprived her of what she was sure would have been a great orgasm, but had drugged her to make his getaway. Of course, she’d been the federal agent tasked with finding enough evidence to arrest him, so maybe that hadn’t been entirely uncalled for.

Except for the orgasm thing; that was just fucking rude. If she had any idea how to find Hunter she’d track him down and…wait a minute, where the hell had her handcuffs gone? Bobbi let out a laugh and drank a little more of her beer.

Closing her eyes and letting the warm water wash over her, she found herself replaying their last moments together. The catch in his voice when he’d said her name, the strength of his hand, splayed across her back. The way he’d stopped to drink her in like she was an oasis in the desert before he’d stuck whatever it’d been in her leg. Her chest felt hollow, like everything inside it had all been scooped out and laid bare. If only she’d done things a little differently, been stronger, smarter, maybe she could have avoided this mess altogether. Bobbi’s eyes popped back open as she blinked back tears. Staring at the cracked tile in front of her, she was very aware that she didn’t regret a damn thing.

Except that it was over.

She stuck her head under the spray and watched water sluice off the ends of her hair, wishing it would wash away all these incredibly inconvenient feelings with it. She had to face facts. She wasn’t undercover anymore and she had a hell of a lot of groveling to do this afternoon if she wanted to keep her job. If there was one thing the bosses hated more than an operation gone wrong, it was insubordination, and the combination was not going to work in her favor.

Not pushing back had always been her most difficult hurdle to overcome. It wasn’t that she wanted to be insubordinate, she just hadn’t ever understood why they were still doing things by the book when the book had been written decades ago. The world had changed, but the Bureau approached it the same way it always had. Steadfast, they called it. Stagnant would be a better word for it. Coulson was the only one who’d seemed to understand.

She’d always tried to toe the line, to be a good cog in the wheels of justice, but she was way out of bounds this time. No matter what her reasons had been, she suspected the higher-ups would never understand the choices she’d made. Her job was to be unemotional, detached, and definitely not to harbor any admiration for what was essentially a vigilante group. She’d broken the rules, and that was all they would see.

They would have absolutely hated Hunter. Smiling, Bobbi tipped her head back and finished her beer.

***

“Agent Morse?”

Bobbi tore her eyes from the television screen, where a fuzzy, distant image of her laughing with Hunter’s arm wrapped around her shoulders was frozen in time. Street footage from a traffic cam had caught them. Bobbi was utterly unsurprised to hear that the internal bank cameras had apparently been malfunctioning that day. The video showed her and Hunter walking out of the bank, post-change fiasco, and Bobbi remembered quite vividly that he’d had just called her a slice of peach pie and she’d threatened to divorce him if he didn’t drop the atrocious accent.

“Yes, sir?” She turned in her chair, keeping her face carefully blank, and faced the Special Agent in Charge, Jeffrey Mace. He was flanked by two senior agents, and Bobbi was seated directly across from them while poor Coulson had been relegated to one end of the table. Any doubts she’d had about this being an interrogation had been dispelled the moment they’d indicated what chair was hers.

“What happened in the bank office?” Mace tapped a pen impatiently on the legal pad in front of him, though he’d yet to make a single note. His suit was gray. Everyone’s suit was gray, including Bobbi’s, and she’d never been so aware of just how little color her everyday life had until this moment.

“They gave us water while we waited for them to clean up the change. Gary, one of the employees, was with us almost the entire time.”

An agent would have already spoken to everyone at the bank, she was sure of it. These questions were meant to test her, to see if her version matched everyone else’s.

“Anything else?” Mace asked.

Bobbi looked him directly in the eye. “It was sparkling water.”

Coulson cleared his throat down at his end of the table and Bobbi would swear he was smothering a laugh. Mace didn’t look quite as amused. “Fine. Tell us what happened after this.” He waved at the still image on the television screen.

“We went home,” Bobbi replied. _Only give as much information as they ask for,_ Coulson’s voice whispered in her head. He’d meant it as advice for the courtroom, but this was as important as any cross-examination.

“You two look awfully cozy,” Mace said, lifting an eyebrow.

Bobbi concentrated on keeping her breathing slow and even. “My job was to get Hunter to trust me.”

“Clearly, whatever you did worked.” There was an edge in Mace’s voice that prickled the hairs on the back of Bobbi’s neck. He was deeply unhappy. That didn’t bode well. “The trouble is, it doesn’t look like we can trust you.”

Bobbi didn’t answer, acutely aware it wasn’t an actual question.

“Did you know that Jemma Simmons and…” Mace glanced at one the agents next to him.

“Leopold Fitz,” the agent supplied.

“Were also in that bank?” Mace continued.

“I saw them after we went inside,” Bobbi said. “They were in the manager’s office.”

A faint frown crossed Mace’s face. “That didn’t strike you as odd? Do you know why they were there?” 

“Bees,” Bobbi said confidently.

The agents on either side of Mace looked confused. “I’m sorry?” Mace said.

“Jemma wanted a loan to buy bees. For the garden,” Bobbi clarified. One of the agents at Mace’s elbow put his pen to paper and hesitated like he wasn’t sure if he needed to write this down or not. Bobbi felt a pang of regret for that now-abandoned garden. Wherever Jemma and Fitz ended up, she hoped there was room to grow another one.

“And they just happened to pick the same bank Mr. Hunter was causing a commotion in? That’s awfully convenient. Almost as convenient as an acquaintance of Mr. Hunter’s being responsible for the drug smuggling.”

Bobbi leaned forward, trying to keep a lid on her frustration. “Did something happen with this bank?” she asked. “More digital transaction discrepancies? Because I didn’t witness anything illegal.” She had her hands tightly clasped in her lap to keep from reaching over the table and throttling Mace.

Mace frowned, and Bobbi had her answer. She sent a silent thanks up to Hunter for not following through on that particular hack. Without it linking him and the others to the missing money, there was no case. Of course, that also meant she’d failed. Big time.

“What about Ward?” Bobbi continued. “Did he get picked up?”

Mace’s pen tapped faster on his legal pad. “That case has been reassigned to the narcotics unit.” Coulson caught Bobbi’s eye and nodded slightly. “We’re here about your performance, Agent Morse, which, I have to say, has not been up to Bureau standards.”

Bobbi lifted her chin. “I did what I thought was best.”

“We have protocols in place for a reason. Clearly, you’ve suffered from a lack of proper supervision,” Mace said snidely.

Stiffening in her seat, Bobbi glared at him. “Any deficiencies lie with me,” she said firmly.

“I don’t disagree,” Mace said. “Which is why you’re going to be reassigned and your entire department will undergo a thorough evaluation process.”

Bobbi’s heart sank, and she sent Coulson an apologetic glance even though he didn’t look remotely surprised. “I see,” she said.

“You’re on leave until the transfer comes through.”

All the breath left Bobbi’s lungs. “Transfer?”

Mace straightened his pristine legal pad. “This is a prestigious posting, Morse, and I’m not going to let you tarnish our reputation with sloppy field work and unsolved cases.”

Bobbi’s jaw dropped. “I handed you a fucking drug smuggler!”

“You got lucky,” Mace said, standing. “Maybe you’ll learn some discipline in Omaha.”

“I’m being transferred to _Nebraska_?”

“Anchorage didn’t have an opening,” Mace said. His two cronies flanked him, their faces stoic. Fuck, he was making an example of her to keep everyone else in line. Her career was over before it had begun. 

Bobbi shot to her feet. “I quit.”

The words hung in the air, and the mood in the room shifted as Bobbi struggled not to take them back. Mace blinked at her, astonished. This was definitely not how she’d planned to make an impression, but nothing seemed to be going the way she expected it to these days.

“Bobbi,” Coulson said quietly, his expression grave. “We don’t want to lose you.”

The fact that it was him, not Mace, who said it, cemented her impulsive decision. “Thank you,” she said.

“So, you don’t quit?” Mace asked, brow furrowed.

“Oh no, I still quit,” Bobbi said. “You can keep your damn banishment to Omaha for the next person who solves a case in a way you don’t like. I’ll clean out my desk.” She spun on her heel and marched out the door, heading down the hall.

Her pulse was pounding in her ears and she tried to tamp down her panic over what she’d just done. Everything was going to be fine. She was a highly trained, intelligent woman. She could find another job. Preferably one where she wouldn’t have to choose between her career and protecting someone she lo—cared about.

“Bobbi!” Coulson called, hurrying after her. “Hold on.”

“I’m not going to Nebraska,” she said firmly, stopping to let him catch up with her.

Coulson shook his head. “I know, and I understand. Look.” He handed her a business card for a security company she recognized as the one May had left the Bureau to work for. “I’m sorry that this…well, I’m just sorry, Bobbi. We’ll miss you, you know. Ward wasn’t even on the radar. You did good work.”

“I know,” she said standing a little straighter. She turned the card over in her hand, realizing he’d written a number on the back. “What’s this?”

“May’s number.” A smile flitted across Coulson’s face. “I think you two will have a lot to talk about.”


	10. Ready or Not

_Six months later_

Bobbi took a deep breath. The air smelled of the Pacific, earth, and the faintest tinge of something floral. There wasn’t a hint of smog or hot asphalt, and she thought she might already be in love.

Her feet sank into the sand as she walked along the beach, watching the surf. This was her third day on the island, and her third day watching the waves as the sun crossed from horizon to horizon. Her skin was turning bronze even with repeated applications of sunscreen.  The latest surf spot she’d chosen looked promising. There weren’t a lot of people in the water, but the waves were perfect, breaking in a steady, rolling rhythm.

A slight breeze kept the temperature just south of too warm as Bobbi unfolded her towel with a snap and pulled off her cover-up. She’d gone with a blue bikini today, the color of the California sky. It was tiny, like her other ones, because she’d be damned if she was going to pass up the chance to make an entrance. 

She wasn’t due back in the states for another week and a half, but already she was considering extending her stay. It wasn’t as if she had anything pressing waiting for her at home. If he wasn’t here now, it was only a matter of time, and touring the beaches for however long it took to find him certainly wouldn’t be a hardship. 

“Hey,” an American-accented voice said as she stretched out on her towel, her eyes on the surf. She didn’t even glance in his direction. “Nice view.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. “I’m waiting for someone.”

There was a pause. “He’s making you wait?”

Bobbi almost smiled. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Is he blind?”

“I’m a surprise.”

“Damn, that’s some surprise.”

“I hope so,” she said, watching a surfer ride in. She tilted her head, assessing, before deciding it could be him, but she’d thought that more than once during the last couple of days.

“He’s not gonna know what hit him.”

“Oh, he’ll know,” Bobbi said, sitting up and taking off her sunglasses as the surfer she’d been watching emerged from the water. Hunter had his surfboard tucked under his arm and the grin on his face was even more beautiful than she remembered.

He dropped his board on the sand and turned to watch another surfer come in, his hands on his hips. His torso was a deep golden color and his ass looked fantastic under his board shorts. Clearly, Samoa agreed with him.

Bobbi climbed to her feet. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she found herself frozen for a moment, afraid to find out if she’d come all this way for nothing.

Straightening her shoulders, she took one step and then another, heading toward the ocean. The surfer behind Hunter stumbled out of the water, sputtering, and for a moment Bobbi was thrown when she realized it was Fitz instead of Daisy. “What the hell, Hunter?” Fitz gasped. “This board’s balance is the same as the last—bloody awful. When is this supposed to get fun?”

“About the time you stop ending up in the washing machine,” Bobbi replied.

Fitz’s eyes widened as he caught sight of her, and Hunter immediately whirled around.

Bobbi stopped a few feet away, waiting, as Hunter stared, his mouth hanging open, and Fitz’s eyes flitted between them.

“Hey,” she finally said, unable to stand the silence any longer.

“Bobbi?” Hunter asked, sounding incredulous.

“I promised Jemma I’d help with, uh…something, this morning,” Fitz said, edging away. “See you.” He fled across the beach, taking his surfboard with him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Hunter finally asked.

Bobbi took a deep breath, trying to keep her smile from slipping. “Someone told me once that Samoa had some amazing surf.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “It’s also a non-extraditable country. You can’t arrest me here.”

Bobbi tilted her head. “Yeah. I can’t really arrest you anywhere.”

“What?”

“You haven’t been charged with anything.” She shrugged. “Plus, I don’t work for the FBI anymore. So I thought I’d come…strut, or prance or whatever you thought I’d do, on the beach.”

“Frolic.” Hunter said absently. He raked a hand through his hair, sending water droplets flying. His eyes strayed down her body and back up again, raising the temperature around her a few degrees. “And you’re doing an admirable job, but what the hell do you mean you don’t work for the FBI anymore? Did those bastards blame you for-”

Bobbi held up her hand to stop him, the tension coiled in her shoulders slowly draining away. He certainly didn’t act like he was unhappy to see her. “No, Hunter. I left.”

“You left,” Hunter repeated. “You left the FBI?”

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m wearing a wire.”

The beginnings of a smile tugged up the corner of Hunter’s mouth and he took a step towards her. “Last time you let me check.”

“Last time I was handcuffed.”

“Oh, I remember.” Hunter reached out, sliding an arm around her waist and tugging her close. She put a hand on his chest, keeping a little distance between them.

“You know what I remember?” 

“That I let you out of the handcuffs?” Hunter said, sounding hopeful.

Bobbi trailed her fingers down his chest towards his waistband. “That you completely left me hanging, you jerk.” Hunter winced. “I’m not even going to mention the knocking me out part.”

“Okay, yes, that was bad, Bob, and I’m very sorry.” Hunter caught her hand and lifted it, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I promise to make it up to you.”

Bobbi arched one brow. “You still have my cuffs?”

“Christ, I missed you,” Hunter said fervently. This time she let him pull her flush against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he kissed her. He tasted just like she remembered, of salt and heat and Hunter.

The little voice that’d been telling her she was foolish for quitting the FBI, crazy for accepting May’s offer, and absolutely insane for tracking down Hunter, finally quieted. It was quickly replaced by a pleasurable thrill that hummed just below the surface of her skin.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here if it’s not to arrest you?” she murmured as he kissed his way down the column of her throat. Someone on the beach yelled something she assumed was obscene, based on the whistling that followed.

Hunter’s embrace loosened. “Not for me?” he asked, his lower lip starting to sneak out.

Bobbi smiled. “Not just for you.”

“Aha! But a little for me.”

“Can we continue this conversation somewhere more private?”

“The house is across the street.”

The hungry expression on Hunter’s face promised they weren’t going to discuss much of anything once they left the beach, but she was in no hurry. “Perfect.”

***

Miraculously, they made it all the way across the street, into the house, and up a flight of stairs before Hunter successfully divested her of her bikini top. He had her pinned against the door of what she assumed was his room and seemed intent on making everything up to her all at once. His cock was hard against her hip, and his hands and mouth were trailing over her skin, finding all the spots that that made her breath hitch.

His lips closed around one pebbled nipple and she arched against his mouth, her head thunking back against the wood supporting her. “Bed?” she panted

Hunter lifted his head and nipped at her lower lip before kissing her again, but this one was softer, sweeter. She melted against him, feeling the weight of his body pressing her against the door. His hands ran down her sides to pluck at the flimsy strings holding her swimsuit bottoms in place. “You’re not working for the CIA now, are you?” he murmured. “Hunting down international fugitives?”

Smiling against his mouth, Bobbi let out a laugh. “No, Lance.”

“Or the NSA?”

Bobbi leaned back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, marveling at the fact that he was really in front of her. His hair was a little shorter than she remembered, and his beard a little fuller, but the rest—the way his eyes turned amber in the sunlight and the laugh lines at the corners, the curve of his full lower lip—was just like she remembered. She’d missed him more than she’d ever admit. “No three-letter government agencies, I promise.” Bobbi tilted her head in invitation, trying to coax another kiss out of him.

Hunter’s brow furrowed, and he stroked his thumbs along the curve of her ass, his fingers slipping under the fabric of her swimsuit. “But you’re here for more than just me.”

“Not at the moment,” she whispered, closing the distance between them. She kissed him deeply, her tongue sweeping through his mouth as his hands remembered their purpose, making short work of the rest of her bikini while she tugged his shorts down and wrapped a hand around his cock. His moan sent a thrill up her spine, and he pulled her away from the door, his arms wrapped firmly around her, directing her across the room until the back of her knees hit a mattress.

He sprawled on top of her, all sun-warmed limbs and skin smelling of saltwater. She cracked her eyes open slightly as Hunter kissed her shoulder in the exact spot where he’d left a bruise the last time they’d been together. Everything finally seemed right with the world again.

Except it was her turn to be on top.

Hooking her leg over his thigh and planting it on the bed, she wiggled her arm under one of his and positioned herself just right before flipping them over in one smooth motion, straddling his hips. She gazed down at him gleefully as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes wide. “Have I told you how much I missed you?” he said.

“Once or twice.” She slid her hands up his arms and linked their fingers together so she could direct his hands up over his head.

He groaned as she rotated her hips slightly, grinding down against him. Heat gathered between her legs and Bobbi let out a sigh of pleasure. “And you missed me,” he said, a gleam in his eye.

“Maybe.”

“Enough to spend hours on a plane on the off chance I was living in a place I mentioned exactly once,”

“Did you always talk this much?”

“Are you going to make me stop?” Hunter asked, smirking.

Bobbi attempted a glare but the way her fingertips were tracing the lines of his biceps on their way back to his chest belied her annoyance. She canted her hips so his cock was sliding through the slickness between her legs and Hunter’s eyes rolled up in his head. She was aching to have him inside of her. “Condom, Hunter.”

“Nightstand,” he managed, hands fisting into the bedsheets. Bobbi leaned over, fumbling with the drawer of the nearby table. She stuck a hand in blindly and was surprised when she came up with an unopened box. She turned it over in her hands, her chest constricting, as Hunter lay under her, patiently waiting.

His gaze was steady on hers as she opened the box and retrieved one, sitting back on his thighs just enough to reveal his erection. Tearing open the packet, she grasped his cock and slid her thumb across the head before rolling the condom down over him. He looked like every one of her fantasies over the last few months come to life. The tropical sunlight filtering into the room made her want to pinch herself to prove that she wasn’t dreaming.

Lifting up, she positioned herself over his cock and slowly began to sink down, her body opening up to welcome him. Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, his grip tightening on the sheets as she took him in, her hands planted firmly on his chest. They were both breathing heavily by the time he was seated fully inside her.

“God, I missed you,” Bobbi gasped. Hunter reached up and fisted a hand into her hair, dragging her down for a messy, desperate kiss. His other hand cupped her ass, urging her to move, and Bobbi grabbed a nearby bedpost to help her sit upright again. “Now start making it up to me.”

***

The sunlight had crept across the room and was now annoyingly in Bobbi’s eyes. She managed to roll over, her limbs still uncoordinated from the last fantastic orgasm she’d had, only to have Hunter tug her back so he could sprawl half on top of her. “Where are you going?” he mumbled.

“Nowhere.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He pressed gentle kisses to her shoulder, leaving Bobbi feeling like they were suddenly having a conversation she hadn’t been prepared for. “You ever going to explain to me why I moved to a non-extraditable country even though I’m not facing charges?”

“I thought you were just here for the surf?”

“Bob.”

“There wasn’t enough evidence.”

“What do you mean there wasn’t enough evidence?” Hunter lifted his head and frowned at her. “I told you everything. You knew exactly what we’d done and you’re sure as hell smart enough to figure out how we’d done it.”

“We caught the bad guy.” Bobbi kissed the tip of his nose. “I told you to trust me.”

Hunter seemed to be mulling that over. “You did,” he finally said.

He settled back over her, tucking his face against her throat, and Bobbi lazily stroked a hand down his back as she took in his room. It was at least twice the size of the bedroom he’d had in L.A., with a polished wood floor and decorative tiles set into the wall They were lying on an imposing four-poster bed that was pushed against one wall and a smattering of clothing was tossed haphazardly on top of a nearby matching dresser.

The windows were wide open, letting in the ocean breeze, with a chair positioned just in front of them to take advantage of what she assumed was a great view. This place seemed like quite an upgrade for a supposedly-former bank robber who thought he was on the lam. “Um, Lance?” Bobbi said.

“Hm?” Hunter kissed her neck.

“This trust thing has to go both ways.” Hunter lifted his head again, his expression puzzled. “You promised you wouldn’t pull any more heists.”

“We haven’t.”

“Then how the hell do you explain this place?” Bobbi pushed him back just far enough to slip out of bed. Moving to the window, she found herself looking out over a lush yard with a small but well-tended garden right in the middle of it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Hunter asked, coming to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Please tell me you sold a kidney or something.”

“Still have both.” 

Bobbi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hunter. You didn’t. The FBI knows you were at that bank because _I_ was at that bank and I swore you didn’t steal a damn thing but they’re not completely incompetent!”

“Easy, Bob.” He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “I promised, didn’t I? We had a rainy-day fund is all. Enough to set us up nice while we figure out where to go from here.”

Bobbi relaxed against him, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Oh.”

“I accept your apology.” Hunter nibbled on her earlobe.

“Is everyone here?” she asked.

“Fitz and Jem should be. Dais had a date this morning, but she’s probably back by now.”

“A date?” Bobbi turned to face Hunter, surprised.

He lifted one shoulder. “Seems like a decent enough guy.”

“That’s almost glowing praise.” She grinned at him. “Let’s go find them, I want to talk to all of you.”

***

They found Jemma and Fitz in the kitchen, Jemma slicing up fruit and periodically smacking Fitz’s hand whenever he snuck a piece.

Jemma looked up, her eyes narrowing, as Bobbi came into the room “This is a non-extraditable country, you know,” Jemma said archly.

Bobbi nodded, smoothing down her borrowed shirt over her bikini bottoms. “I know.”

Jemma resuming her slicing while Hunter slipped past Bobbi and opened the fridge. He pulled out a couple of beers and popped the caps off before handing one to Bobbi and settling down on a nearby stool. Bobbi sat next to him and watched Jemma work for a minute, feeling a little self-conscious. This was the second time she’d barged in on their lives, and as badly as the first time had gone, she didn’t blame them for their suspicion.

“Bob doesn’t work for the FBI anymore,” Hunter announced.

Jemma’s chopping abruptly stopped, and Fitz looked surprised.

“You aren’t seriously going to fall for that,” another voice said. Bobbi looked over, startled, to find Daisy glaring at her from the doorway.

“Dais,” Hunter sighed.

“Don’t ‘Dais’ me,” Daisy said, pointing at Hunter accusingly. “I am not dealing with your mopey ass for another six months after it turns out she’s here to betray us. Again.”

“I didn’t betray anyone,” Bobbi protested.

“I do not mope!” Hunter exclaimed.

 “Daisy’s right,” Fitz said gently. He shared a pitying glance with Jemma.

“None of you are facing charges,” Bobbi said.

Daisy snorted. “Yet.”

“I left the Bureau,” Bobbi said. “I know you’re capable of getting into the personnel files. Feel free to check.”

Daisy arched a brow at Hunter, leaning a hip against the counter next to Jemma and stealing a piece of fruit. Jemma made an exasperated noise.

“What?” Hunter asked.

“Can I check?” Daisy said pointedly.

Hunter frowned “Yeah, of course.” Bobbi glanced at him, confused, but watched quietly as Daisy retrieved a laptop and claimed one end of the kitchen table, glowering at the screen.

Jemma cleared her throat, catching Bobbi’s attention. “He asked us all not to do anything that might trace back to you. He didn’t want to get you into trouble.”

Bobbi turned to Hunter, but he refused to meet her eyes. She leaned over and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before laying her head on his shoulder. His arm snuck around her waist and she caught Jemma smiling down at the bowl of fruit she was amassing. “What are you making?”

“Oh, we have a guava tree now,” Jemma said. “The juice is wonderful, but I thought I’d try and make jam.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“They were going to transfer you to Nebraska the day after we left?” Daisy suddenly asked. “What the hell? We saw all the news articles on Ward’s arrest after we left. I thought you caught him?” She looked up and gave Bobbi a fierce smile. “Thanks for that bit of karmic justice, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” Bobbi straightened up and tipped her beer in Daisy’s direction. “But apparently they didn’t appreciate my crime-solving methods.”

“I did,” Hunter murmured in her ear. Bobbi elbowed him.

“Daisy,” Jemma said, frowning. “She knows what we’re capable of, we can’t just-”

“Oh, no, don’t worry.” Daisy glanced guiltily at Hunter. “One of my sources is confirming it, too. Even undercover agents get paid and she’s definitely not.”

“So, you really aren’t working for the FBI anymore?” Fitz asked.

“I’m really not.” Bobbi waited for the twinge in her chest that usually followed that announcement, but it never came.

Daisy propped her chin in her hand. “Then why are you here? No offense, but the sex can’t be that good.”

“Excuse me!” Hunter said, clearly offended.

Bobbi patted his leg. “I’m actually here because of my new job.” She felt Hunter stiffen beside her and Daisy crossed her arms, all traces of friendliness disappearing. “I’m working for a digital security company run by a former colleague, and I’m here to recruit all of you.”

Daisy blinked, and her mouth dropped open. “What?” 

“Recruit us?” Fitz said faintly.

“Yep,” Bobbi said, reaching over to grab a piece of guava. “To break into our clients’ security systems so we can tell them where the weaknesses are.”

“You want us to do what we were doing before?” Jemma said.

“Without the misappropriation of funds.”

“Seriously?” Daisy asked.

“It pays well, so you’ll still be getting money from all those big companies, just legally. You can give it away if you want, and live here or come back to California since it doesn’t really matter where you’re based.”

Bobbi looked around, but everyone seemed to just be staring at her in confusion. She dropped her gaze and began to peel the label off her beer, waiting for a verdict. It was a lot to take in. God knew she’d struggled to decide if she was making a smart business move or just being a sentimental fool after the thought had first struck her. May, echoing a newly-retired Coulson, had seemed confident in Bobbi’s decision to relay the offer, but now that she was here, Bobbi was more nervous than she’d expected.

“I love you,” Hunter said, sounding awed. Bobbi turned to him in surprise.

“I think I might, too,” Daisy said.

“I called dibs,” Hunter said.

“Uh, so, yes?” Bobbi asked.

Hunter grasped her borrowed shirt and yanked her forward, planting a smacking kiss on her lips. “Yes, Bob, we’re in.” He tugged her over until she was perched on his lap, feeling her face turn red. “Now, about the living wherever we want thing, this include you?”

“I guess?”

“Excellent,” Hunter said. “Glad that’s settled.”

“It is?” 

Daisy smothered a laugh. “I hope you realize you just signed up for a lifetime of dawn patrol.”

“This is so exciting!” Jemma said, beaming. Fitz still looked stunned. “Which place do you think we’ll get to break into first?”

“I’ll have May send a list,” Bobbi said, grabbing Hunter’s wandering hands just before they snuck under her shirt.

***

“Bob,” Hunter murmured in her ear.

She frowned and snuggled deeper under the covers, seeking his warmth and coming up empty. She flung out her arm, patting the mattress. “Come back to bed,” she mumbled.

“Sun’ll be up soon, ready to hit the beach?” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

Bobbi cracked an eye and pouted up at him. “Can’t we sleep in just this once?”

Hunter’s crooked smile made her feel warm all over. “We’ve only got so many sunrises, love.” Bobbi opened her other eye. “Come and share it with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all so awesome for cheering me through this, I appreciate every single one of you! <3
> 
> EDIT: There's now an amazing epilogue by lazyfish!! [**ripples**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697509)

**Author's Note:**

> on Tumblr @robotgort


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